Happenstance
by LethalIngenuity
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a writer, and blames himself for the death of his best friend. This incident has provided him with writers block. Oddly enough, he finds comfort, a friend, and a story, in the stranger sitting in the seat next to him on the plane.
1. Prologue

**Prologue  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Who am I to state the obvious?<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Adventure is worthwhile<br>**Amelia Earhart_

__Two young men, arms hooked around the other's shoulders, stumble out of the bar. The shorter one with sandy blonde hair trips over his own foot and falls, dragging his friend down with him. The two fall into a heap on the wet pavement, and laugh; what they are laughing about is beyond the knowledge of the world. The two lay on the ground and are giddy, ignoring the disapproving looks of passer-bys.

Tonight they were young and free, and nothing could stop the rush of alcohol in their veins.

The taller blonde pulls himself into a sitting position and rests his head against the wall behind him. In his blue eyes is a look of determination. "My lover" Are all the words that pass his lip. The sandy-haired blonde sits up beside his friend, his emerald eyes staring distantly at the other.

"What of her?" he asks with a slight slur in his speech.

"I want to propose, Arthur. I want to get married." Sighs his blue eyed friend.

In another time and place, Arthur would have reprimanded his friend. He would have stated how 19 was such a ripe age and that Alfred should finish college first and land himself a steady job before even thinking of marriage. He would have told Alfred that a man who can't even take care of himself or manage to pay the electricity bill could barely hope to take care of another. But tonight reasoning was denied entry into his brain, and Arthur finds himself scrambling to his feet and extending a hand towards Alfred.

"Let's go pay your girlfriend a visit then." Arthur's voice sounds far away and dreamlike, and the fact that Alfred continues to sit there and ramble on about why he wants to get married makes Arthur wonder if his words had reached Alfred at all.

But eventually, Alfred takes his hand and the two stumble their way in to the parking lot. By the time they reach the car, Arthur is half dragging Alfred. He unceremoniously shoves him into the passenger seat and Arthur himself falls into the driver's side.

"Where are we going?" Arthur asks.

Alfred drunkenly raises a hand and points forward. "To Canada!" is what he shouts. Arthur gives Alfred a boyish grin.

"A Canadian journey!"

The two attempt to high five and miss, and they both end up giggling. Arthur starts the car and Alfred says, "Got your seatbelt on?"

"Bollocks to seatbelts" is Arthur's reply, as he puts the car in reverse. They both succumb to laughter once again as Arthur starts to drive out of the parking lot. They are both chanting, "North, North" eager to begin their Canadian journey.

Two young men were rushed into the hospital. The shorter one with sandy blonde hair would leave the next morning, shaken and bruised. The other would remain in the emergency room, and how long he would be there was beyond the knowledge of the world.


	2. Depart

**Chapter 1: A Departing Signifies that there was friendship  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia<strong>

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><p><em>Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.<em>

_**Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

A wild goose chase, that's what Arthur was doing. Alfred lay in the hospital unconscious, and Arthur had taken it upon himself to find the woman the two had been searching for. Alfred's 'lover'. But it had been harder than Arthur initially thought. Canada was such a gigantic place, and without even a description of her, Arthur set out to find Alfred's girlfriend. But only a few weeks after arriving had he realized that there would be absolutely no way he would be able to find her. He probably could have passed her on the street, or accidently bumped into her at the airport. Sooner or later, Arthur would have run out of money. He had already stayed longer than he initially planned, and he had a 'job' waiting for him back in London. He glanced out of the window of the airplane, and stared at the city lights that lit up the place known as Toronto. He really wished he could have stayed with Alfred, but Arthur couldn't even remember the name of the hospital, and he had lost his cell phone in the crash, so calling Alfred's family wouldn't be an option. He was sure they would have forgiven him, but he had to forgive himself first.

"The lights are too bright. You can't see the stars."

"Huh?"

Arthur turned to his right and sitting beside him was a young man, who looked as if he was 16 or 17. He had wavy blonde hair that fell down to his shoulders, and violet eyes. Glasses were perched upon his nose, and he looked as if he were the shy and quiet type, so Arthur almost doubted that this boy was the type to initiate conversation.

"The lights," he said, pointing out towards the window leaning over Arthur. "You may think it makes the city pretty, but you can't see the stars. Light pollution."

The seatbelt warning signal came on, so he leaned back into his seat to put his seat belt on. Arthur did the same, and then continued to stare out the window. When Arthur turned he noticed the boy had his legs propped up against the chair in front of him, and was drawing something that looked oddly familiar.

"I don't mean to be rude, but is that me?" Arthur asked, noting towards a cartoon drawing that had his clothing and a scowl on his face.

"Uhh, yeah." He said meekly, as he moved his arm to block his drawing. "I hope you don't think I'm weird or anything, but I'm kinda creating a comic based off my adventure, and I want to draw everyone I meet. It's not my idea, I just promised someone I'd do this."

"Oh. I don't mind." Arthur was a writer, and understood the basis of writing on experience.

"But why am I like that?"

"Like what?"

"I'm frowning."

He laughed. "You've been doing that ever since I've seen you. Is something the matter?"

"It's nothing."

"Okay. I won't pry."

He returned to his drawing, face scrunching up whenever he believed that he drew the anatomy wrong. Arthur felt the story of Alfred bubble up inside him. The guilt was eating away at his insides.

"I killed my best friend."

"Well that was unexpected." A laugh.

"Shouldn't you take me more seriously? A murderer could be sitting beside you and all you do is laugh." A growl.

"You don't look powerful enough to be a murderer." An insult.

"And what if I use that fact as an advantage?"

A smirk. "You wouldn't, because that would be like admitting you're weak, and it seems as if you have too much pride for that."

"What makes you think I'm too proud?"

"Your British accent."

Arthur scoffed. The nerve of this boy! Applying a stereotype to him and insulting him when he was trying to open himself up to him. There was a soft chuckling, and Arthur realized that it was coming from this boy.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"I've managed to bother you, and we've barely gone an hour in flight."

He held out his hand. An apology.

"I'm Matthew Williams."

Arthur took his hand and shook it. Forgiveness.

"Arthur Kirkland."

The young boy had a firm grip and hands that seemed too rough to be his.

"Tell me how you murdered him." He asked.

"I was drunk and driving."

It was all he said, but the five words were enough. The boy opened his mouth to speak. The words that would come out would be a lecture. Pity. An apology. But they were neither.

"And God punished you by letting you live."

Yes. That's exactly what it was. While Alfred lay in a comatose, Arthur got off scotch free. Now he hadn't exactly out right murdered Alfred, but he had stolen his average life away from him. Alfred would never be able to live the same way again, and he was to blame. Arthur wished so many times that he had died in that crash, or at least be injured enough that he was deemed handicapped. Arthur felt like he was going to barf. It should have been him in that hospital bed. Alfred should be out there in Canada, proposing to his girlfriend. Oh for how much Arthur hated himself. And it was bewilderment as well. Such little conversation with Matthew had brought forth such emotions. He was the first person he had spoken to since the incident, and he didn't tell him what he thought he would ehar, or what he needed to hear. Rather he told him something that he could confirm.

"How long ago was it?"

"A year ago."

"A sentence. Life without bail."

He nodded in agreement, and then looked at Matthew. As in, he looked at him for the very first time. He was diminutive. Lean, with soft facial features. But his body language said he was capable of handling himself. His eyes were soft, and beyond the surface was a look of weariness and exhaustion. An old soul.

"You're too cynical for your age." Arthur stated.

He laughed, a soft tinkle to Arthur's ears.

"I just have a strong disappointment in humanity."

That was wrong. When someone as young as Matthew said that, it was so wrong.

"How come?"

He shook his head. "Not a story to be retold."

Arthur felt a slight pang of disappointment. He had shared a bit of himself with this boy. He was hoping that he would do the same.

"May I tell you the story that has yet to be told?"

Arthur raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You may."

Matthew placed a hand in his bag and pulled out what looked like a map, and placed his pencil on it. "My journey begins here." He stated, while pointing at Detroit. "It continued here." He drew a line towards Toronto. "And will end here." He circled the majority of the European continent.

"A journey to Europe?"

Not at all. "A journey to find someone."

"Who?"

"A worthy enough man for my man to be proud of."

'His man?' He definitely meant his father. And it so seemed that Matthew played for that side of the team. But what kind of parent would send their child so far?

"The criteria?"

"Must have a British accent, be able to curse in French when angry, can translate Japanese and has a dislike in Chinese food."

A moment of silence passes between them and he is sure the man behind them is laughing at Matthew.

"My man wants the best for me." He says, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Does he want you to live alone forever?"

"I wouldn't mind."

They sit through the rest of the flight in silence. The only word said being a good bye as they departed the plane and parted ways.


	3. Unexpected

**Chapter 2: When it's least expected  
><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia<br>****

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><p><em>I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine.<br>__**Caskie Stinnett**_

"Normally, such experiences would help inspire a writer. In your case, it seems to have done the opposite."

The red head sitting across the table from Arthur crossed his legs and flipped through the manuscript with disinterest. Arthur scowled. He was ignoring the calls from the Jones family. If he did kill Alfred after all, and he knew he would not be welcomed there. A funeral was for family and friends, not murderers. Or maybe they were calling to say that Alfred was alive, and okay. He wouldn't be able to stand that. Because if he saw Alfred, Alfred would surely forgive him. Arthur wouldn't be able to handle it, because he couldn't even forgive himself.

"Git. I will not use His accident as a writing prompt."

His. Alfred's. Al's.

Arthur felt as if he had no right to even say his name anymore. Of course he didn't. Blaine was an arse for even suggesting Arthur use Alfred's life for a story. Alfred's life was too glorious and free, and to write his life story down would be the same as caging a bald eagle. Blaine placed the manuscript down on the coffee table.

"Listen, Artie." No. He didn't want to.

"You need to go out more." Wasn't he already outside?

"You need change." As if this accident wasn't change enough?

"You need inspiration." He had all the inspiration he needed within his quaint home.

"And the stuff you're writing is complete shit." Arthur flinched at that one.

"So as your publisher," Blaine's expression softened. "And as your brother, I recommend that you take a vacation. Go to Belgium or something. Germany even."

Arthur scoffed. "And where would I get the money for that?" he stated dryly.

"I'll pay for it." A joke.

"I won't accept it." He wasn't a charity case.

"Then go get laid, write about it, and come back to me. It would definitely be more interesting than what you've given me so far." That was a low blow, and a very sensitive topic.

"Hmph."

Arthur abruptly stood up, tears slightly stinging his eyes.

"Hey Artie, it was a joke."

Arthur would hear none of it. He was already out the door and half a block away. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't know how long he had been walking, but it had begun to rain. He had neglected to bring an umbrella because he had figured Blaine would drive him home. Arthur grimaced and decided he would wait out the storm. He ducked into the nearest book store. He didn't know how long the storm would be, so he might as well entertain himself with a good read. When he entered, there was a soft sing song voice.

"Welcome!" chirped the clerk, who had a laptop set in front of him on the counter. And then the clerk peered over his laptop and saw Arthur and suddenly deadpanned.

"Arthur?" he asked hesitantly, his voice having dropped several decibels.

Arthur gaped. "Matthew?"

The young blonde smiled. "You remembered me!" He hopped over the counter, careful not to knock down his laptop, and flipped the 'open' sign on the door to 'closed.'

"Can you do that?" Arthur questioned, pretty sure that he couldn't.

"Store is closed on an account of horrid weather."

Arthur laughed. "Are you daft? This is London. The weather is always like this."

"Then this store should always be closed."

Matthew motioned towards to couches at the far back of the store, past all the book cases.

"Take a seat. I'll get you something to drink."

"Tea?"

"Sorry. Don't have any."

"Coffee?" Arthur was desperate.

"I can't believe you enjoy that bitter stuff. I'll be back."

As soon as Matthew left, Arthur began to form many questions in his mind. The first time they had met was two months ago. What was Matthew doing here? Did he live here? That couldn't be it. What were the chances that the book store he would run in to would be the one where Matthew was working? Is Matthew just visiting relatives or something? Yes, that's it. Matthew was visiting relatives and his aunt or uncle had asked him to run the shop for just a few moments. That would make sense. There was the sound of the door opening, and Matthew called out, "I'm back!" but Arthur didn't remember Matthew ever leaving. To his surprise, Matthew was still wearing his casual clothes but was drenched from head to toe. In one hand he held a cup with a string trailing out of the mouth, and in his other was a bottle of soda. Matthew had been so quick; he might as well have gone upstairs and poured him some tea.

"Are you mad? You'll catch a cold."

A shrug of the shoulders. "I'm Canadian." He slid in to the couch next to Arthur's. "There's a café across the street from here."

Oh. Arthur figured he was American because he remembered how Matthew had stated that his journey began in Detroit. He sipped at the tea. Earl grey, with a hint of Jasmine. Somehow Matthew had guessed his favourite kind.

"What are you doing here?"

"Working. I've got a visa that allows me to live and work here." So he was by himself.

"I mean, what are you doing in London?"

"Searching."

Right. He was looking for that one man that didn't exist so he could please his father.

"Aren't you too young to work?" Or be in Europe without parental supervision.

"I'm 20." That's the age Alfred would have been.

"You look younger then that."

"I get that a lot."

Arthur shifted a bit, and found that he had completely soaked the couch. Matthew saw the look of worry and smiled.

"It's okay." He said. "It's sunny outside. You and I can just move the couches outside and sit on them."

True to the word, the outside of the shop was bright and sunny. When Arthur focused back to Matthew, he found that he was being drawn yet again.

"I'm still frowning."

A mischievous smile. "Now you notice?"

Arthur scowled, and shot him a back handed two fingers.

"Peace to you too" he laughed, and then Arthur laughed too. Then he stopped, and mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't be laughing. He felt as if he could never laugh again. Because laughter was an amity of joy. And Alfred was joy. Arthur felt that if he didn't drown himself in sorrows, one day, he might laugh and forget about Alfred. Alfred was like a little brother to him. Somewhere inside, he had wished he had picked up his phone. Because maybe it would have been Alfred on the other end, telling him it was okay.

But Arthur was too much of a coward to call back, so he would never get his salvation.

"Is something the matter?" Matthew asked, noticing the sudden change in emotion.

"It's nothing. I have to go now." _Before I betray Alfred._

"Oh" A tinge of disappointment coated Matthew's voice.

"I'll see you again?" Arthur asked.

He shook his head. "Today my visa expires. I'll be leaving for Belgium tomorrow."

"You expect to find a man with a British accent who can curse in French when angry, can translate Japanese and dislikes Chinese food in Belgium?"

"You remembered that too!" Caught.

"Of course. It was such a ludicrous demand." Save.

"Haha…" Awkwardness.

"I can come with you." What was he saying? What spurred Arthur to say that? Traveling with a stranger was dangerous. You never knew who they truly were. But then again, Arthur had opened up to Matthew. Didn't that make them closer than strangers?

"Really?" Matthew's face lit up.

"Yes. I was planning to go to Belgium anyways. My editor suggested it." Lies. But who would know?

"Alright. Would you mind coming to the Royal National? I just want to visit the Covent Garden before we leave."

"Won't you be late for your flight?"

Matthew smiled sheepishly. "Actually, you came in right while I was booking a flight."

He walked to the counter, picked up his laptop, and brought it back to where Arthur was seated.

"We can both buy tickets and grab some seats together."

Arthur smiled, and then politely excused himself.

"I've just got to make a call to double check that it's okay." He stated.

He stood outside the shop and held his new cell phone to his ear. Then he remembered how he had childishly walked out on Blaine.

"Hullo?" Came his brother's gruff voice.

"Um. Blaine. I'm sorry about that bit where I stomped off." He paused. "You know that vacation you mentioned?"

He could already imagine his older brother grinning like a maniac on the other side of the phone.

"Found someone to run away with?"

"No-wait- hey. How did you know?"

"First, look at the book store you're standing in front of."

Arthur did so, and looked at the sign above the book store. He almost dropped his phone. _Kirkland Books._ How could he have forgotten that not only was Blaine his publisher, but also the owner of several book stores? And what exactly were the chances of Arthur running in to _Blaine's _book store?

"Now look across the street."

Arthur really did drop his phone. Across the street was his red haired brother, grinning as if he had won the lottery.

"You devious bastard!" Arthur shouted, before going back into the book store. Unfortunately, Matthew had seen the entire ordeal.

"Your brother talks about you a lot. We're like this." He crossed his fingers as if to express how close they were.

Realization dawned upon Arthur. Matthew hadn't guessed his favourite tea, Blaine had told him. And in that short time that he had went across the street, he had also told Blaine of his whereabouts.

"You're all in this together!" Arthur shouted, throwing his arms into the air. A giggle escaped from Matthew's lips. Then it grew into a laugh. And Arthur found himself laughing too. And then he remembered Him, and immediately felt the guilt. The laughter died out, and an awkward silence filled the air.

"I booked the flight." Matthew stated.

Arthur nodded. "I'll go home and pack then. What a coincidence this has all been, you working at my brother's shop and all."

Matthew just politely smiles as Arthur waves a hand good bye to him. On his way out, he picked up his cell phone and jogged across the street to where Blaine still stood.

"Don't think you've won." He snarled.

"He's a nice lad." Blaine commented.

"With high standards." Arthur retorted.

Blaine just laughed as Arthur berated him while the two of them climbed into his car, to drive off home.

Matthew brings his laptop back to the counter and switches the 'closed' sign on the door back to 'open'.

He smiles, because Arthur is the only one who doesn't know that it wasn't a coincidence.

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><p>Blaine is Scotland.<p> 


	4. The Clock

I would like to thank **iChocoLove**, **RainbowHeart**, **lovehatewhateverxx**,  
><strong>canna<strong>, **palendrone12** and **Thing2BK** for their kind reviews.  
>Also, a special mention to <strong>Yukai yami <strong>for pointing out the gender mix up. Thanks!

****Chapter 3: The Gears of the Clock Begin to Stir**  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.<br>**

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><p><em>I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.<br>_**Percy Bysshe Shelley**

"In no way was Covent Garden an actual garden. That was a mall."

"You were just too ignorant to do some research beforehand."

"Research? When someone says, 'Garden' you'd expect an actual garden. That place is fraud"

"Belt up."

Matthew pursed his lips and silently pouted as Arthur and he continued to walk down the streets of Belgium, Antwerp, in search of the Hilton hotel. Earlier that day, as promised, Arthur took Matthew to Covent Garden. To his own surprise, and Arthur's amusement, he found out that it wasn't an actual garden, but a mall instead. Matthew had scoffed, and said that they should change the misleading title.

"The buildings are quite pretty here." Matthew commented, as they passed a few old looking houses. Matthew paused in front of a cathedral and stared at it intently. He was probably devouring its structure and processing it, to later spit it out on a piece of paper.

"It's so beautiful." Matthew mused.

The sight of him becoming so entranced with it was nostalgic. It reminded Arthur of how Alfred would look up at the sky. He would say with such conviction that one day he would be flying an airplane in the sky, and Arthur never doubted it. "The skies are free, and that's where I belong" is what Alfred would say. If Alfred were here-

Alfred.

"Once you've seen one cathedral, you've seen all there is to Europe. It's nothing special."

Matthew's gaze changed from the cathedral to Arthur. There was a look of slight disappointment on his face, and it made Arthur almost want to take back what he said. Almost. Better to crush their dreams now before he took the wheel and did it for them.

"Let's go. I do not want to lug this thing around forever."

He motioned towards his luggage. IT was packed with the basic necessities and enough clothing to last about a week. He didn't plan on staying long. Matthew had packed light as well. He had stated how he was never one to dress too extravagantly, and only cared if he had an mp3 player, paper, and a pencil. He was such an odd lad.

Matthew nodded, and they continued to walk. And soon it began to rain. They started to walk more briskly, and soon through the downpour, they were sprinting.

"Next time we just call a taxi" Arthur shouted out.

But when there was no response he realized that Matthew had stopped running with him. He turned and saw that Matthew had stopped at the middle of an intersection and was absorbed at the sight of a bright red building. Above the entrance doors hung the name, 'Da Giovanni'.

With a snort, Arthur grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away. Matthew just had to have a bizarre fascination with buildings.

"We'll go there later," he growled, and he half pulled half dragged Matthew towards the Hilton Hotel. Arthur had to admit that the hotel was pretty extravagant. Too extravagant. He hoped that Blaine wasn't just callously throwing his money about. Even if he was rich. Once inside, they both strode straight to the counter, only Matthew had managed to arrive there a bit faster.

"We have a reservation." He mumbled in a hushed voice.

"Pardon?" The receptionist asked.

Matthew had to repeat himself several times before the receptionist understood, and poised his hands at the keyboard of the computer.

"Name?"

"Matthew Williams."

The receptionist nodded, and after a typing in Matthew's name, he went to the back to retrieve their room card keys.

"You're too soft spoken." Arthur whispered.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

Arthur sighed, and raised his voice a bit. "I said you're too soft spoken."

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

Irritated, Arthur repeated himself, only to get the same type of response from Matthew.

"Please speak a bit louder, I didn't catch that."

"You're too bloody soft spoken!" Arthur shouted, which had earned him an amused look from the receptionist as he slid two card keys across the counter.

"You're horrid." Arthur proclaimed.

Matthew just politely smiled as he picked up the two cards and thrust one towards Arthur.

"What is this?" Seriously.

"We're sharing a room."

"I do not find that funny." Not in the slightest bit.

"I'm not joking." Matthew's expression was stoic.

Arthur turned towards the receptionist once again. "Are there any reservations under the surname Kirkland?"

The receptionist stroked the keyboard a few times, and frowned. "None at all."

Arthur hastily thanked him, and snatched the card key out of Matthew's hand.

"You're in league with my brother." Damn them both.

"Actually, Blaine was so insistent on paying." Okay, maybe just Blaine.

"And it was signed under your name?"

"My dad works at Hilton, so we get 50% off all lodgings." That explains the ability to travel cheap.

"Does your father miss you?"

Matthew didn't respond until they reached their hotel room door.

"I like to think I have no parents."

"I see." Arthur didn't want to delve any further. The same way of how Matthew respected his, Arthur would keep out of Matthew's private life.

"Oh wipe that look off your face. It's nothing serious." Matthew swiped the card key and twisted the handle. "It's just that for some reason, all the strong anime characters have no parents. They're either orphans or something." The words bizarre and odd could no longer be accurate to describe Matthew.

"Oh gosh."

Arthur peered over Matthew's shoulder to see the cause of his dismay. The room was pristine and had an excellent view. There was one washroom, one bed, one couch, a telly-

Oh. That was the problem.

"I guess I'll sleep on the couch." Arthur cautiously exclaimed. Matthew must have had a gigantic sense of trust to sleep in the same room as a stranger that he's only met three times. In fact, Arthur had such qualms too, during his years in university. And he was right to as well. His roommate was completely uncouth, and brought a variety of women into the room almost every other night. Not to mention he was French.

But Arthur wasn't like that. He was a gentleman.

"I'm going back to check out that red building. Can I borrow your umbrella?" Matthew was a really impatient person.

"You can, but you may not." Grammar was Arthur's bitch.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "No, I will not play that game. I'll be back in five minutes."

It wasn't until Matthew had reached the elevator had Arthur succumbed. He ran out of the room with an umbrella in hand.

"Here" he was already out of breath. Arthur made a mental note to work out more when he got home.

"Thank you. A gentleman indeed." Did Arthur say that part out loud?

There was the ding of the elevator and the metal door opened, allowing Matthew to slip inside.

"I'll be waiting for you." Really, what else did Arthur have to do?

"Don't have too much fun without me." The metal door slid shut, and Arthur was alone. HE shuffled back to the room and found that the door was locked. He fumbled with his pockets and remembered that he had left the card key on the night stand. Great. He considered asking the receptionist, but then again, Matthew said he wouldn't be too long. Plus he didn't want to embarrass himself by saying he locked himself out after they had just got their keys. So instead, he sat in front of their room and flipped his phone open. It was currently 1:35pm. Matthew should be back around 1:40.

Arthur sighed. What the hell was he thinking, agreeing to this trip? He was just wasting his brother's money. And Matthew was not only wasting his money, but his time. Finding a man with those specifics in Europe was impossible. And there was an even least likely chance of that man being gay. But Matthew wasn't giving up, was he? Maybe Arthur had given up too soon. Maybe one day, he'd find Alfred's girlfriend and apologize for what he had done. Actually, that was out of the question. What would he say to her? 'Hello I'm the man who crippled your boyfriend and changed his and your life forever." Yeah, that was certainly charming. What would Alfred do? Arthur hung his head between his knees. Alfred was always bright and optimistic, a sharp contrast to himself. Arthur was cynical and despairing. Alfred could do a lot that he couldn't. For one, Alfred would have gone to the receptionist and asked for a spare key.

Arthur took a glance at the clock on his cell phone. 2:03. Just where was that lad? Arthur flipped his phone and dialled the number that Matthew had scrawled on his hand earlier on their flight to Belgium. His phone had rung three times, but no one picked up. His phone redialled, and that's when he heard it. There was a faint musical chime coming from the other side of the door. Arthur stood up with a groan. He would just have to go to Matthew instead. Really, how long could you stare at a building? It was still raining buckets, so Arthur took cover under the awnings of the little stores, sprinting between each gap.

He was able to pinpoint the red building, and saw Matthew standing at the intersection, not bothering to even use the umbrella he borrowed.

"You git! Are you trying to get yourself sick?"

Matthew turned towards the fast approaching Arthur.

"I'm Canadian."

"That doesn't mean you're impervious to illness!"

That's when he noticed that beside Matthew was a girl in a wheel chair. She had startling green eyes and a ribbon weaving through her blonde hair of the same colour. And she was holding Arthur's umbrella.

"Arthur, this is Laura Von Dijk. Laura, this is that horrible and crude man I was talking about."

"Sod off!" What exactly was Matthew telling other people?

Laura smiled, and extended a hand towards Arthur. "Matthew was only joking. He had not said any harsh things to me about you. He has just been keeping me company while I wait for my brother."

So that's what had been taking him. He took Laura's hand and shook it. She had a strong grip, but not to firm. You could tell a lot from a person's handshake.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"My brother was supposed to pick me up at 12." A flip of the phone said it was 2:38.

"Why not call him?"

"He never has his phone on him."

Arthur shot a glare at Matthew.

"There's no use in having a phone if you don't carry it with you." That means you, Matthew.

"There's no use in having a phone if no one ever cares to call you." A subtle hint causing a twinge of guilt.

"Laura, have you eaten yet?" Matthew asked.

Laura shook her head, blonde locks falling over her face. Arthur remembered that he had not eaten yet as well.

"Then instead of standing in front of a restaurant and stare, let's go inside where it's nice and not raining."

Arthur could not help but agree to such a reasonable plan, but Laura opposed.

"I have no money, and my brother might come at any moment. I'll be fine out here." She absent-mindedly twirled the umbrella in her hands.

Matthew had an amused look on his face. Then with a deafening shout, he said, "Hey you! Laura's brother! If you have a problem with me treating your sister to lunch, say something now!"

No one responded, but that was expected.

" I guess your brother's fine with it."

"When did you learn to speak so loudly?" Arthur muttered.

"It's my hockey season voice." Matthew turned towards Laura. "Shall we go? It'll be my treat."

Laura frowned. "I don't want to be a bother."

Matthew laughed and grabbed the handles of the wheel chair, pushing Laura into the restaurant and ignoring her protests. That sly bastard using Laura's disability to his advantage.

"A bother? No way. You're much more pleasurable company than my friend Arthur." So they had become friends now, did they?"

"Table for three , please."

The bus boy nodded, and as he ushered them to their seat, Arthur lightly brushed his hand against Matthew's.

"I left my wallet back at the hotel."

"Are you deaf?" Matthew responded. " I said it was my treat."

Arthur scowled as he seated himself down in the booth at the side opposite to Matthew's. It wasn't necessary, but he always felt the need to pay someone back when they showed him kindness. He watched as Matthew gently helped Laura out of her wheel chair and into the booth. Immediately, a waiter was at their table.

"May I start you off with some drinks?"

"Water, for me."

"The same."

"I'd like some iced tea." The waiter gave Matthew a quizzical look as he jotted down the order and walked away.

In the booth behind them came the startling cry of a little child, followed by the soothing voice of what was probably it's parent.

"I can't imagine having a child. I could never see myself in the future with a family." Matthew commented.

Laura smiled dejectedly. "A child. I had dreamed of bearing children, I always wanted to be a mother. But now I can't see myself in the future with a family either."

Sparing them the awkward moment of silence, the waiter came back with their drinks.

"Would you like to order now?"

Arthur and Laura shared a look of exasperation. It wasn't their money, so they were unsure of what to order.

Noticing the tension, Matthew indicated towards the picture of pizza at the front of the menu. "We'll share this," he said. The waiter nodded and left the table.

"I hope you don't mind. The English on this menu is terrible, and I can only understand a bit of French. Might as well go the safe route and pick the one that looks most appetizing." Matthew stated, and then took a sip from his iced tea. He sputtered and started to choke. Arthur crooked an eyebrow as Laura rubbed circular motions on Matthew's back.

"You okay lad?"

"I'm fine. I just hadn't expected them to actually give me _brewed_ice tea." The lad did say 'iced tea'.

Arthur's gaze switched to Laura.

"Do you know why your brother would arrive so late?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"He barely even shows up, so I usually have to go home by myself and wait. It's a blessing if he's even decided to come home at all." Out of her purse, Laura pulled out a variety of pills. She placed what had to be over five pills in her hand and swallowed them all in one swoop, followed by a sip from her glass of water.

"Is that healthy?" Arthur asked.

"No. But I need them all to live."

The waiter arrived with a steaming pizza in one hand. "Enjoy" he said, as he slipped it on to the table. Arthur and Laura waited until Matthew had taken the first slice. He eyed them curiously, before taking a savoury bite.

"It's good. You guys should have some."

Damn his stomach, that traitor. Arthur could no longer hold back and soon he and Laura were enjoying a slice as well.

"How far do you live from here?" Matthew asked, a hand covered over his mouth.

"A good twenty minute walk for you." Laura stated.

Arthur peered through the red framed window. "Is your brother here yet?"

"No, I don't see him."

Arthur looked back at the table and saw that there was only one slice left.

"Save it for your brother" Matthew suggested.

Laura shook her head. "You've already done a lot for me."

"Nah, anyone could buy you a pizza with that pretty face of yours." Was Matthew flirting?

"Thank you." A blush.

"Which is why Arthur and I should walk you home." Arthur had jumped too soon to conclusions. Within the short time that Arthur had spent with Matthew, he learned that the Canadian didn't compliment you unless he was up to something.

"I never agreed to walking –" a swift kick to the shin was all it took to change Arthur's mind.

"Bollocks. Fine, we'll walk you home." Might as well. Matthew had the key and Arthur couldn't get into the room without it. Even though he could just ask for the key but that would mean admitting the embarrassing fact that he had locked himself out. The waiter came by with the check, and by the time they had paid and were out the door it was 4:05pm.

Matthew pushed Laura as she directed which way to go, while Arthur held the umbrella. It wasn't really necessary since the rain had died down, but Arthur felt like he should be a bit more useful. "A hero always helps" is what Alfred would have said.

"We're here." Laura announced, as they came up to a shoddy town house.

"You can go now." She kindly smiled at them. "Thank you for the pizza, I am sure my brother will enjoy it."

Matthew waited expectantly.

"What's wrong?" Laura asked, cocking her head to the side.

"You're not going inside."

"Oh." She sheepishly grinned. "We only have one key."

"And your brother has it." Arthur mused. He had already disliked her brother, and he didn't think he could have disliked him anymore. "Do you not have anywhere else to go?"

Laura's eyes were downcast.

"I do but my brother doesn't like him, and to live with him I'd have to go very far away. But it's okay because my brother needs me. I have to look after him." He definitely wasn't looking after her that was for sure.

"Laura! " The three of them turned towards the direction of where the deep voice had boomed. A man with spiky blonde hair and eyes identical to Laura's came running towards them. He had a vertical scar on his forehead, and was just how Arthur imagined him to look like. Absolutely barbaric.

Laura's face lit up and the newcomer and she shared a quick embrace.

"Lars! Where were you?" Laura asked.

"I've been around." Her brother responded and the two switched into fluent Dutch.

"I don't like him." Arthur bluntly stated. He found that Matthew was staring intently at Lars.

"He smells like… I don't know." Coke. Charlie. Happy dust.

"We should go?" Arthur suggested.

Matthew frowned. "He makes her wait three hours in the rain. If it weren't for us, she would have been waiting by herself. And she told me that she waits there everyday."

Arthur placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder.

"Come now. Let's be realistic. We can't help her even if we wanted to."

Matthew reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the two siblings.

"No." he stated confidently. "We can help her. You just refuse to because she's still just a stranger to you."

Matthew and Arthur walked their way to the hotel in silence, but Arthur was sure that some sort of plan was taking place in Matthew's mind.

* * *

><p>Arthur awoke in the middle of the night, the sound of soft whimpers loud to his ears. He was still half asleep when he felt a gentle tug on his arm. Through haggard eyes he saw Matthew hovering over him, his face tear stricken. He immediately bolted up right and had almost fallen off the couch during the process of standing up.<p>

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"It's too cold." Matthew muttered.

Arthur pressed a cool hand to Matthew's forehead, and almost pulled away when it came in contact with his extremely hot skin.

"You're burning up." He stated with urgency.

He pulled Matthew over to the bed, and pulled the covers over him. In addition he placed his blanket on top.

"I told you that you would get sick. Now look what happened."

Matthew smiled weakly. "Thanks mom."

Arthur then lifted up the covers, making Matthew shiver as the cool draft crept over him. HE quickly slid under the covers and pulled himself closer to him.

"What are you doing?" Matthew asked timidly.

Really, what was Arthur doing? He was in the same bed as someone whom he barely knew. And this young man was gay. What if Matthew was only faking it to sleep with Arthur? Arthur highly doubted that. Matthew didn't seem the type. But what would Matthew think? Arthur wasn't interested in a relationship, and he hoped that that wasn't what Matthew thought he wanted. No, Arthur was only trying to comfort a friend.

"You'll be warmer if I share my body heat with you."

Matthew made no response, and Arthur almost figured he had fallen asleep. Arthur felt has eye lids begin to grow heavy.

"Thank you, Alfred." Matthew softly murmured.

Arthur made some sort of sound of acknowledgement before he closed his eyes one last time for that night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I actually need some help. There will be some travelling through Italy, Germany, and France as well, and since I have been to neither places, I was wondering if anyone knew of what places could be visited. They don't necessarily have to be tourist attractions either.


	5. Execution

Thanks to **Yukai Yami**, **Lydiacatfish**,** iChocoLove**,** lillithrising**,** Jetfires girl,**  
><strong>StromLantern<strong>, and** Jalie96** for the reviews! Very much appreciated.  
>Sorry for the repost of the chapter, for some reason some parts were cut out.<p>

**Chapter 4: The Mission has Begun its Execution  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.<strong>

* * *

><p><em>A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.<br>_**Confucius**

"You're late. Where have you been?"

Lars shrugged his shoulders. He knew that his sister was only questioning him out of curiosity, not because she was angry. "I've been around." He responded in Dutch.

This was a constant game between the two siblings; Laura would ask Lars why he was so late, and Lars would always avoid the question. It had been going on for four years now.

Lars pushed Laura's wheel chair and the two continued towards their house in solemnity. They called it a house, but they both knew it wasn't a home. Home was something gone long time ago. Home was Mom, Dad, Lars, Laura and Leandro. And because only two of them were left, they were incomplete. Home was incomplete. Home didn't exist.

Lars turned the key and Laura rolled by him into the small cramped town house. They only had a washroom, a kitchen, and a bed. But that was all that was needed. No television, because they could barely afford the electricity bill. No personal items, because it had been too painful to see their items strewn across their front lawn every time they were evicted. The water for the shower was always cold.

And Lars had Laura, and Laura had Lars, and that was the only thing that seemed necessary.

Lars was standing in the kitchen heating up some bread (it was all they could afford) when Laura began to speak. But the topic was always the same, every night, always the same.

"Antonio is doing well." Is what she would start off with. Lars grimaced at that name. Antonio. They weren't close friends, more like family friends. But in their time in need, Antonio had fled to Italy, leaving Lars and Laura to fend for themselves.

"Why do you bring him up." Lars mumbled. But he knew why. Antonio had offered Laura and Lars a place to stay. Maybe he was trying to make amends, and bring back that friendship they once shared.

But you can't bring back the dead.

Lars knew how desperately Laura wanted to go. She and Antonio were extremely close, and Lars didn't doubt that she would be better off with him. But Lars wanted Laura to stay, and because she knew that, she would stay.

Lars would take care of Laura. Even if it meant that he would have to deal with drugs, he would pay for her medication; he would pay for their lodgings. Even though she was the older sister, he would take on the responsibilities, as long as she wouldn't leave him. She was all he had.

It was the next day, and Lars and Laura were both getting ready to leave. Lars was trying to gel up his hair, but it just wasn't going right. "Lean down," Laura exclaimed. Lars did so, and she ruffled his hair. When he stood back up and looked at his reflection in the mirror, his hair was perfect. And then she pulled out a small bottle of perfume and sprayed it on her brother. "You smell pretty bad." She would say. He then brought Laura to the convenience store, and then he began to mentally prepare himself for the journey to Bruges to work at that flower shop. It was the only place that would accept him, someone who dropped out of high school. The owner took pity on Lars and would often give him bread for supper.

The cycle would repeat, but Lars was okay with that. As long as Laura was there, as long as he could still hug her good night, everything was okay.

* * *

><p>Arthur was half asleep when someone mumbled what sounded like a goodbye.<p>

"Don't be home late Peter." Arthur mumbled out of habit. Then he suddenly regained his bearings.

And who it was that was leaving.

"Shite, you bugger!"

Arthur scrambled to his feet and hastily put on his coat, ignoring the fact that he was still only in his pyjamas. He grabbed the card key off the nightstand before rushing out of the room and just managed to see a flash of blond hair disappear into the elevator. The door was about to close but Arthur dashed inside and basically slammed in to Matthew, the collision making him fall to the floor. He barely even had any time to recover before Arthur pulled him out of the elevator, the both of them landing their arses on the hallway floor, watching the elevator door close.

"What's your problem?" Matthew yelled. Or rather he tried to. He already had a soft voice, but the illness had completely robbed him of sound. Arthur smacked a hand against his forehead, causing Matthew to reel back a bit.

"You're still sick. Are you daft? Just where did you think you were going?"

Not a word was said but no words were needed, Arthur already knew where Matthew was going.

"If you go to help Laura now, you'll become even sicker. Do you want that?"

Matthew shrugged his shoulders, signifying that it wouldn't matter to him.

"So you don't care if you become so sick you're stuck in a hospital for the rest of your life?"

Once again, Matthew shrugged his shoulders. '_I just have a strong disappointment in humanity' _Words that echoed throughout Arthur's mind. Didn't such thoughts lead to suicide?

"You don't care if you die, do you?"

Matthew had a determined look. One that told Arthur that Matthew had made up his mind and was not going to back down. He had seen that face before. But where? Oh yes, Alfred. This was the face Alfred made whenever things didn't go his way. Arthur was completely used to this, and he knew what he would do. He would have to deal with Matthew the same way he dealt with Alfred. He grabbed Matthew by the shoulders and tried his best to give him the coldest stare, looking directly at his violet orbs.

"And if you die, that means that you won't find that man with those impossible requirements?"

Matthew nodded his face indifferent. Stoic.

"And you don't care about the people who will mourn at your death? Who will cry for you?"

Matthew turned his face to look away from Arthur's glare which was infuriating. It would take Arthur much more than rationalization to reason with Matthew. But what could Arthur do to convince Matthew otherwise? Matthew was the type who acted out on emotion, on that need to help others. Arthur didn't know Matthew for long, but you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure that out. So Arthur dug deep down within himself to find something emotional, a story to sway Matthew. And the only story Arthur had was one about Alfred.

"Listen you brat." He spat out. Matthew flinched at the sudden out burst.

"You have such a life ahead of you, and you don't want to waste away in a hospital bed."

_Alfred, Alfred, Alfred_. Arthur repeated the name in his head like a mantra, as if it would give him the persuasive powers he needed. But the name would drop and settle in his stomach and create some kind of unwanted substance. Guilt.

"Such things bring change in people, not only in you but also in those around you."

_You were bright and cheery and shone like a star. Will you still shine when I see you again? Will you be the same person, Alfred? Will I be the same?_

"And what if you die? Think of all the things people would have wanted to say to you! Confessions, apologies, thank yous. But they'll never get to!"

_I'm sorry Alfred, I'm so sorry._

"They will never get to. You know why?"

Something wet and warm landed on Arthur's leg, but he paid no attention to it.

"Because you are bloody dead!"

More wet and warm drops, hot like wax from a candle.

"The most they could do is talk to your cold, rotting, corpse."

_'Arthur, I want to save the world.'_

"You're gone. For good."

_'Oh? You think you're capable of that when you can't even save yourself?'_

"And you will leave a hole."

_'You doubt me.'_

"You are something irreplaceable."

_'No, not at all. I believe in you, Alfred.'_

"You will make them feel incomplete."

_Alfred, I never should have left that hospital. I was such a coward; I didn't want to face my mistake. I should be there right beside you._

"You will make them feel alone in the world."

_You were my best friend, Alfred. You were like a brother to me._

"And who will be there to comfort them?"

_What do you do when the person who stops you from crying is the one who made you cry?_

"And they will forever mourn you until-"

"Arthur, don't cry." A whisper that cut through words.

Matthew's facial expression had at changed into something sympathetic, but why? And that's when Arthur noticed that he was crying. Matthew pulled him into a warm embrace and ran a hand through Arthur's hair. What was to come next? An apology? Words of pity? Words that would be alright? None of that would be enough. And Matthew seemed to know that, just like during their first meeting on the plane. Matthew knew what to say but at this moment nothing could be said, so instead, he sang. A soft and hoarse voice, that Arthur could only hear because Matthew was singing into his ear.

"Smile, though your heart is aching."

Arthur felt tired, so very tired. He had welcomed the embrace, welcomed the body heat of someone else. Matthew was exceptionally warm, and Arthur was just so tired.

"Smile, even though it's breaking."

Arthur was tired of not knowing what happened to Alfred. Of not knowing if he was dead or alive, and this lack of information was what was killing him.

"When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by."

Arthur felt Matthew's voice reverberate through their bodies together. He wondered what Matthew thought of him. Here he was, practically a stranger, crying in Matthew's arms. A sick person's arms. He felt so pathetic at that moment. But this is what Matthew did; he cared for those who he did not know.

"If you smile, through your pain and sorrow."

He was too tired to think of anything. There was just that one constant in his mind, the one face he saw in everything he did.

"Smile and maybe tomorrow."

That one person whose name lingered at the tip of his tongue at the end of each day. Alfred.

"You'll see the sun come shining through."

A wave of exhaustion washed through Arthur, and he simply slumped against Matthew. Was Arthur sick as well? No, he was mentally drained from unleashing his pent up feelings, for saying words that were meant for Alfred but said to someone else.

"You should go back into the room. You're still in your Pjs."

Arthur looked down at himself and laughed. Indeed, he had rushed out of the room with nothing but a t –shirt, shorts, and his coat. He suddenly felt more self conscious and aware, breaking from what seemed to be a short lived reverie. Arthur wanted to thank Matthew for being there for him. Even though they had not known each other for long, he felt as if he could truly call her a friend. It was ironic because when someone had told him such feelings, he had merely laughed at them. Now he knew better.

"We're quite a pair." Arthur stated as he brings himself to his feet. Matthew laughs and stands as well, but he places a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"I'll see you later then."

"…."

So after that heart wrenching, gut twisting corny moment they had, this boy was still intent on doing as he wished? Did he not know that in a romance novel, he was supposed to say, 'Oh Arthur you are so entirely right'? And then they both go back to the hotel room and Arthur is supposed to take care of Matthew and make some witty remark and they both laugh? Then again, this was reality, and there was no love in this relationship at all to make it a romance novel. If it's reality, Arthur should just approach the situation more _realistically.  
><em>  
>He grabbed Matthew's arm, but with strength that no sick person could have possessed, Matthew twisted his arm so that <em>he<em>was the one holding on to Arthur. In one fluid motion he placed his leg behind Arthur's and pulled on his arm, bringing him closer as he sent a swinging hand to his neck, knocking him right to the ground.

"Bloody hell!" Arthur yelled as he clutched at his throbbing head.

Matthew immediately dropped to his knees and began speaking a mile a minute.

"Im-so-sorry-it-was-a-reflex-I-swear-see-I-had-these-friends-Gilbert-and-Alfred-and-they-were-so-touchy-feely-so-I-just-became-accustomed-to-knocking-them-down-I-usually-dont-hit-girls-or-fragile-looking-people-I-swear"

"Matthew!" Arthur grumbled, interrupting the boys verbal diarrhea. "My head feels as if it's about to explode, and you are not helping at all. I did not even catch a single word you said." Except the part about fragile looking. But Arthur would let that slide.

For now.

"Okay, okay, I'm so sorry." Matthew leaned over to help Arthur up and guided him towards their room. After the swipe of a card key, they were inside.

"Is there anyway I can make it up to you?" Matthew you will be your own undoing.

"Yes." Arthur stated, a smile playing about his lips. "If you let me take care of you until you get better, I'll forgive you."

"Fair enough." The young teenager proclaimed.

Arthur shrugged off his coat and went into the kitchen and began opening cupboards, in search of tea.

"I'm making some tea. What would you like?"

When there was no response, he went back into the living room and found Matthew lying face down on the bed fast asleep. It turns out the boy was more sick then he had let on, probably so that Arthur wouldn't worry as much. Someone who puts others before themselves.

"Just like Alfred." Arthur murmured, as he felt the sadness begin to well up inside him again.

* * *

><p>The rest of the week continued like this. Matthew said that it would have been a waste of Arthur's vacation, so he sent him on errands such as taking pictures of buildings. But Arthur was never sent to find that special man Matthew was looking for; that was his own job. If Matthew didn't find the man himself, the journey would be meaningless. Arthur already considered the journey to be meaningless because no such man existed. Well, he did. You know, in Matthew's imagination.<p>

The trips that Arthur was sent on were usually quite lengthy, but Arthur didn't mind. It kept his mind free of Alfred as he would spend more time wondering if Matthew would enjoy the picture.

On the Thursday, when Arthur had returned from Ghent, he had found that Matthew was breathing quite heavily. He touched a hand to her forehead and made a tsk sound.

"It seems to me that you are not getting better, you're actually getting worse." How was that possible? Matthew stayed in bed all day so he should be getting better. Matthew made a face and continued to browse through the pictures on his camera.

"Hey Arthur." At least his voice was coming back.

"Yes?"

"What is train Europa?"

"Train Europa?" How would Matthew know about that? "It's a grand train that travels throughout all of Europe, and even a bit of Asia."

Matthew's eyes widened and delight was upon his sickly face.

"That sounds so cool." Was Matthew thinking of going aboard? Those tickets were expensive.

"I thought you said you were going back to North America after this." So that Arthur would be rid of him and never have to worry about Matthew's well being because they'll be an ocean apart.

"I might have other plans." Mathew said, and that was the end of that topic.

Bruges was beautiful. Arthur was a writer and he probably could have explained it more fancily with bigger and more unknown words, but he felt that only one word could describe such a place. It reminded Arthur of those types of places you would only see in fairy tales. As he was walking down a street, a loud voice boomed out to him, shouting his last name. That was odd because he was sure he knew no one in Belgium, and he wasn't a well known writer. He turned and saw who he remembered as Laura's brother walking up to him, wearing a green apron with the name "Flora Queen" embroidered on the front in pink. Funny, Arthur always depicted Laura's brother as the type to work at a garage fixing cars, or the type that would prey on small little girls – or boys. Or Matthew.

"Oh, you're Laura's brother. Erm…"

"Lars" the tall man said, as he stuck out a hand to Arthur.

"A pleasure to meet you." Arthur noted that Lars had a strong stench of perfume around him but beneath that lay the smell of something illegal.

Lars grinned and pulled something out of his apron pocket. Arthur noted that in Lars' other hand, he held a tulip.

"I really appreciate what Matthew is doing." Lars said. And just exactly _what_could it be that Matthew was doing? He was at the hotel right now. Lars handed Arthur a card and the tulip.

"Give that to Matthew. Tell him not to buy a ticket and to not worry about the money. I was going to give this to him myself, or get Laura to do it, but since you're here…"

Arthur thought that he was probably misinterpreting what this man said, because Lars' accent was heavy. He asked Lars' to repeat himself but Arthur just became even more confused, and didn't know exactly what he meant. And Arthur was one to speak his mind.

"Okay, you're just being confusing and I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about." Okay, he tends to speak his mind and add more colourful wording.

Lars tilted his head to the side, the same way Laura did when they were unsure of something.

"Matthew has been helping me out the past week by bringing Laura home for me."

Oh. Oh damn. That made so much sense now. The long trips, Matthew getting sicker. Arthur hastily said goodbye and left, because he had a certain Canadian to talk to and he wasn't answering his phone.  
>The journey back took him at least an hour and the anxiety building up in his stomach was too much. He looked at the card in his hand, wondering what was inside. Matthew <em>did<em>owe Arthur for his troubles. He took a peek and gasped. There was a ticket for train Europa to Italy.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Arthur yelled as he stormed into the hotel room, trying to create tension. But his efforts were in vain, because no one was in there.

"Ah…"

Arthur whipped around to see Matthew standing at the door, panting.

"I didn't go out. I just walked around this floor, I swear." Lies, lies lies lies. Caught you in the act.

But Arthur kept his composure and tried his best to smile.

"I believe you." As if.

Matthew sighed in what seemed to be relief. "Did you get the pictures?"

Arthur handed Matthew the camera, hoping that he didn't notice his trembling hand. Oh, how Arthur enjoyed mind fucking people. It was his favourite hobby beside embroidery.

"Where are you going after this?" Because it definitely wasn't back to Canada.

"I'm going to Italy." He responded.

Arthur tried his best to look surprised.

"Italy? How come?"

Matthew did his best to avoid Arthur's gaze.

"I'm going to be honest with you." Yes, ruin Arthur's fun. No mind fucking needed when one was bloody truthful. "You know Laura?" Arthur nodded.

"Don't get mad but I've been taking her home each day. And I got to know her pretty well. Her brother too." Matthew didn't notice Arthur wince at that. "Laura works at a convenience store until 12 as someone who answers the phone. Lars works at a flower shop in Bruges, but the money they make isn't enough to cover all the bills and they barely get by. Their parents and little brother died in a car crash, the same car crash that paralysed Laura. They ran out of inheritance money so Lars was desperate and he got into that… business. Lars had been working for a long time and he made enough money to send Laura to a friend's place, which can take care of her. But Lars doesn't want Laura to go alone, and he can't quit his job and because I've been helping them out he wants me to go. I went to buy a ticket."

Arthur was silent through the entire explanation. It was horrible, because he felt indifferent. This was just another story to him. This wasn't his problem, he didn't really know Laura. Back when he believed in God, when Alfred was there, he might have felt pity. But God abandoned Arthur the moment his car collided with that tree, and God took all of Arthur's sympathy with him. Arthur did the one thing he least expected himself to do.

He laughed.

"Are you trying to be a hero?" So a like to Alfred. So hopeless.

And that look, that look that Arthur would never be able to forget. That indescribable look of anger, of rage, one that didn't suit the Canadian's face.

"You doubt me." Matthew growled. Now where had Arthur heard those words before?

"Because you amuse me" Your ideals are unrealistic, you should not even exist in this world. A person like you, who is willing to go out of their way to help a stranger, should not exist. The world is too cruel to spawn someone such as you.

"Matthew," he chided. "These situations happen to everyone. They repeat themselves, everyday. Don't go out of your way to help someone. Go home. Back to Canada."

Matthew's laugh was bitter sweet. "And now that you've told me to go home, I'll definitely be going to Italy." He waved the ticket he was holding in his hand. "See this? This is non-refundable. And I've already tried so hard to convince Laura to go, and I've worked so hard to gain Lars' trust. You go home. Your vacation is over. Our time together is over."

Arthur smiled and revealed his own trump card. He pulled the card out of his pocket and held the ticket up with one hand.

"It appears that we'll still be travelling together." Why? Why should Arthur care? Why was he doing this?

"Why?" Matthew asked, reiterating Arthur's very own question.

"It's not for you, it's for me. You're still sick and I promised to take care of you. It would be very un-gentleman like of me to break a promise." That's what Arthur would try to convince himself.

"And what would you do if your company is not wanted?"

_Even if you don't want my company, you need me. This is too hard to do by yourself._

"You'll just have to deal with it," Arthur proclaimed, shoving the tulip in to Matthew's face. Curiously, he took the tulip and read a note that was attached to it with a pink ribbon. A smile grew across his face.

"What is it?" What could make Matthew smile?

"I'm still mad at you." Matthew stated, as he placed the tulip on the counter and made his way to the bed where his drawings lay strewn everywhere. Arthur saw that the note was written in printing, and a phone number was scrawled at the bottom of it. He untied the ribbon and brought the note in to the light to read it better. The note read;

_"Thank you for what you're doing for me and Laura. I would be happy to take you up on that offer to meet some time again. We could go travelling. You said you like an adventure, right? But we'll skip China since we both dislike Chinese food._

Laura already has her ticket and she'll meet you at the station. I can't go with her because of my work and all.

Don't tell Laura about my new cell phone. I want her to be free of me, to move on (Even if it means I have to send her to that man. I really want her to stay but I want what's best for her) It was hard enough to hide it from her, she's so nosy. But I promise I'll visit her when I straighten everything out. I'm trying to get clean.

P.S, here's my number. Call me if you ever need help, or if you want to just talk. I feel like I owe you a lot.

Your friend, Lars."

Arthur scowled at the paper and dropped it to the floor, as if it was an alien that transformed itself into a piece of paper and was sexually harassing his hands. He looked over at Matthew, who was too busy drawing to notice if Arthur would throw the paper in the trash bin.

And that's exactly what Arthur did.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **It's almost here, the moment when Arthur believes he has found Alfred's girlfriend. And you all know that Europa train is fictional, (well at least the one I will write about is)


	6. Escape

Thanks to **Jalie96**, **Jetfires girl**, **CuteLikeMomiji, Deikuru,** and **phomma-chan **for the reviews!  
>And I would reply to them but I don't know if I'd only be bothering people.<br>AND TY TO JALIE96 FOR THE PRONOUN ERRORS I SUCK AT THAT SORRY I LOOK AT TWO THINGS AT ONCE.

**Chapter 5: There's no escape from you  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I wish Tokyopop didn't crash so I could have bought volume 3.<strong>

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><p><em>My favourite thing is to go where I have never gone.<br>**Diane Arbus**_

The sound of shattering glass was a most deafening sound, the crunch of hard metal against the tree the finale and the sound of the car horn only a small addition to the symphony of disaster. The air bags had failed to deploy, but Arthur was okay because some where along the drive Alfred had sobered up and stated that even though they were heroes, no hero was too good for a seatbelt. Arthur finds himself in a totally surreal state, still not able to fully comprehend anything probably because he is still drunk. But somewhere in his brain he knows that something is wrong, but he feels alright. He starts to laugh, only adding to the blare of the horn.

"It's a miracle Alfred! Everything is fine. Now you've got some war scars to show that girlfriend of yours."

Arthur's conscious is thanking God, thanking God for keeping him and Alfred safe. It seems like the right thing to do. But Alfred still has yet to say anything.

"Alfred?"

There is still no response.

Arthur turns to the right, turns towards the passenger seat, turns towards Alfred. Immediately his thoughts that God has protected them have vanished, and his belief in God has disappeared as well.

* * *

><p>Arthur opened his eyes and stared at the tiles of the ceiling. It was the dead of the night, but in his peripheral vision he noticed a soft glow. His gaze traced to where the light was coming from, and there he saw Matthew sitting at the edge of the bed, a hand covering his ear. In the dim light Arthur saw the corner of Matthew's mouth quirk into a smile.<p>

"Don't be giving him a hard time, eh? I called him and asked him to check up on you, so stop bitching at him, I can hear you all the way in Belgium." A brief pause and Arthur heard sharp squeaking sounds, which was enough evidence to let him know that Matthew was talking on the phone.

"Be nice, okay? He's my friend. And no, no Soviet Russia jokes." Matthew paused, contemplating something else. "And don't you dare think of sneaking out either. How would I know if you snuck out?... I asked him to watch you for a reason, and I told him that he may even use… physical means of keeping you there. Yeah, he'll call me even if you _think_of sneaking out. And by any chance you _do_ sneak out, you'll have to face _me,_and I promise you I'll be even worse then him."

Matthew's tone had an unusual tinge of something that Arthur had not heard before. He couldn't quite place how, but Matthew's speech had changed, along with the air around him.

"Thank about it this way; you'll be like Joan of Arc. Oh god, do you honestly not know who she is? She's like my hero! Oh yeah, there you go off again, spouting your hero shit again. I can't believe you don't know who she is, we even read a novel about her."

What was added in Matthew's way of talk, besides the insistent swearing? Matthew sighed, but it wasn't one of exasperation, but one filled with nostalgia. As if this conversation reminded Matthew of better times.

"Of course the only thing _you_ would remember was that she had big and lovely breasts. Whatever, just research her. Oh fine, I'll spoon feed you like the little baby you are. She was a _virgin_, just like _you,_and will stay that way forever."

Now Arthur knew what was different. When speaking to this person Matthew was more intimate and spoke more like a teenager. He spoke with an absolute fondness, and he was careless with his speech, and the aloofness that guarded Matthew like a brick wall was gone. It was replaced with what would seem to be a genuine happiness. At this moment, during this dark hour of the morning, with whomever this may have been and for the first time throughout all the time Arthur had been with him, Matthew seemed so realistic, so vulnerable, so human.

It was unnerving.

"Oh, you really have to go now? Okay, yeah I don't mind. I'll call you back later." Stay. That's what Matthew's tone of voice pleaded, and though the word was not said out loud, Arthur knew that was what he meant.

"I love you too. Bye." There was the clack of a phone closing, and Arthur saw that Matthew was placing the phone on the nightstand, next to his glasses. Arthur continued to lie on the couch, not daring to move. He did not want to show any indications that he was awake; he felt as if he were an unwanted guest, an intruder who had just eavesdropped on a very intimate moment. But the light of the night stand did not go off, and Matthew sat there on the bed, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Then he turned to the couch.

"How much did you hear?" What should Arthur do? Pretend he was asleep? That probably would have been the best idea. Instead he replied.

"Not much." Only too much.

"Sorry for waking you." No, thank you Matthew. You've spared me from reliving the most dreadful moment of my life. But those were unspoken, and instead he said, "Who would call you at such a late hour?"

"Someone across the ocean. Someone in Detroit."

Matthew stared out the hotel window, as if perhaps he could see North America from Belgium. As if he could see Detroit.

"Who were you talking to on the phone?"

The lamp was turned off with a pull of the string and Arthur could hear the ruffling of bed sheets.

"Go to sleep" Matthew stated, avoiding the question. "We have to get up in 6 hours."

But Arthur did not sleep. He couldn't, not with that turbulent feeling in his stomach. And the rustling from the bed had told him that Matthew was restless as well. Was he perhaps still very sick? Should Arthur try to comfort him, or would he be stepping over the boundaries of friendship? Once again, against his better judgement, he slipped under the covers of Matthew's bed. If he was awake, he made no protests.

They were only friends, this was all meaningless. Arthur repeated that phrase in his mind until he was able to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>They were now walking through the streets of Antwerp, this being their final time. Matthew was only wearing a light jacket, and fall was nearing right around the corner. Didn't Matthew have school?<p>

"I didn't think Europe was as cold as Canada." Ignorance was bliss, or in Matthew's case, death.

"Here" Arthur said, as he undid the buttons of his trench coat. Matthew immediately realized what he was doing and sped up his pace.

"I don't want your coat." Stubborn brat.

"You're sick."

"So?"

"So take better care of yourself, git." The coat was off, and Arthur tried his best as he could to catch up with Matthew, his luggage trailing behind him.

"You're not immortal!" He called out to him in a last desperate attempt, which worked because Matthew paused and turned around.

"And because we are mortal, the world is so beautiful. The moment we are born, we are doomed to die."

Arthur was dumbstruck and Matthew used this as an opportunity to take the coat, but he didn't put it on, he merely held on to it.

Finally recovered, Arthur stated, "If I had written down several of the things you have said to me, and said nothing about your age, people would have mistaken you for someone old, or someone who is about to die. Or maybe someone stuck in an infinite sorrow. You're a depressing person to hang around."

To this, Matthew laughed.

"I am a mirror. I reflect the personality of the person I'm with, which would make us two boring people."

Was that a compliment or was it an insult, because Arthur felt insulted. And it was odd. Whenever Arthur spoke to Matthew, he felt as if the conversation always sounded as if they were reciting the stanza's of a poem. A poem where someone has lost something important, something they couldn't live without. But they both must have lost something. Young people aren't supposed to be so cynical.

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><p>The train was fairly large but wasn't extravagant. Four seats were going down in rows and an aisle dividing them into two columns. Arthur and Laura sat beside each other, and were among the lucky passengers to get a seat with a table in front. Laura's wheel chair was neatly tucked under the table and she sat at the window seat. Opposite and sitting diagonally across from Arthur was a young man with short black hair with an unusual curl sticking out, and dark brown eyes that were focused on the laptop on the table in front of him. He was furiously typing and taking advantage of the wifi before the train would pass through another tunnel.<p>

Beside him sat a girl with short blonde hair that was held back from her face with two blue clips. The first thing Arthur noticed was that her blue eyes were staring fondly at a picture she held in her hand. But if Arthur was honest, he would have said that the first thing he noticed was that she had big breasts – there was no point in using fancy words to get around it. Laura seemed to notice them as well, because her eyes were fixated on them. No, Laura and Arthur weren't perverts, it's just that this girl's breasts were so large they just _couldn't_be seen.

Because Matthew had bought his ticket separately from theirs, he was seated up at the front. Arthur had no qualms against using Lars' ticket that he bought; it was crack money after all. His only problem was that he felt as if he had swindled Matthew out of a free train ride. He would pay him back, some how. Speaking of Matthew, how was he doing? He was still sick, wasn't he? And Arthur would only be a gentleman if he checked up on him, correct?

Arthur politely excused himself and walked up to the aisles near the front. He spotted Matthew's blonde hair and made towards him. Matthew was seated beside a young man who seemed to be of oriental descent, but not the same as the one that was on the laptop. This young man also had black hair and dark brown eyes and had earphones plugged into both ears. The sound was loud and blaring something indistinctly Japanese. Arthur's eyes went over to Matthew, whose head was up against the window and his eyes were closed. Arthur beamed, because Matthew had laid Arthur's trench coat over himself like a blanket.

"Do you need something, Mr…" Arthur looked down and saw that the young Asian man had unplugged one ear phone and was staring directly at him. Remembering his manners, Arthur stuck out his hand.

"Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

The Asian man hesitated, and then took Arthur's hand.

"Ah, hello Kirkland-san. I am Kiku Honda." A Japanese accent. No doubt this man was Japanese, or as Alfred would have put it, _No shit Sherlock._

"Do you need something?" Kiku repeated, his eyes wandering about.

"No, I was just checking up on my friend." Arthur gestured towards the sleeping figure beside Kiku.

"You are a friend of Matthew-san?" Don't you mean Williams-san? If he's Matthew-san, why aren't I Arthur-san? You can't know him that well we've only been on this train for three hours and the lad is already asleep.

"Yes. We have been travelling together for quite some time now." Arthur eyed Matthew's sleeping figure again. "Hopefully, one would not take advantage of Matthew while he's asleep, or I'll have quite a mess on my hands." A subtle threat that Arthur would be sure to follow through.

Kiku seemed to notice the warning tone because his reply was polite but unmistakably cold.

"It never crossed my mind to do such to Matthew-san, if that is what you were implying. And sometimes it is those who we have known the longest that can harm us the most." Kiku's eyes stared directly into Arthur's. "You would do well to remember that, _Kirkland_-_san_." Kiku made an extra-emphasis on the Kirkland part and Arthur knew that he had over stayed his welcome. He nodded, and trudged his way back to his seat, holding on to the back of chairs for support. Laura awaited Arthur's arrival eagerly.

"Welcome back Arthur. Look! I've made a friend." Laura gestured with her hand towards the blonde girl. Obviously it wasn't the Asian because he was still entranced with whatever he was doing on his laptop.

"Arthur, this is Sofia Braginski. Sofia, this is Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur shook hands with Sofia, who had kind eyes and a meek smile. Then the two girls went back into their conversation previous before Arthur's return. He pulled a journal and pen out of his bag, hoping that he would be able to come up with something for a story. He couldn't help but over hear their conversation though.

"Ooo" Laura cooed. "So you were born in Ukraine, then your parents moved to Russia and had your little brother."

"Yes," Sofia responded, still looking at the photo in her hand that Arthur had seen her staring at before. "My parents then left us with our grandparents to vacation in Belarus. My mother had a bit of an affair, and soon my youngest sister Natalya was born."

Arthur tried to block the two out as he jotted down ideas for a story, but none of them were sticking with him. What could he write? He briefly looked outside the window for inspiration but gained none. All he noticed was how the scenery passed by like a blurb. And then it hit him like a train on a track. An adventure, he would write an adventure. About what and who though?

"Why aren't your siblings traveling with you?"

Sofia softly sighed. "Natalya is currently studying in America. Ivan was supposed to come with me but there was an emergency and he had to head to Detroit."

Sofia had a soft voice, one almost as soft as Matthew's. But Arthur tried to block out that thought. What could Arthur write about? Then he thought about Alfred. He cringed at the thought, but continued to think. The pain in his heart was still as constant as before, but Arthur was used to it. Alfred went on many adventures. He would always boast about that. There was one adventure that had intrigued Arthur the most though, and it was one where Alfred said he had ran away from home and hopped on the subway, going as far as he could. Even though Alfred would call Arthur almost every day during that time, he believed it all to be a lie. Alfred was just as good as telling stories as him. Still, for a lie, it all sounded pretty interesting.

"What kind of emergency?"

"A close friend of ours is in the hospital. I really wish I could have gone with Ivan, but he insisted that the business meeting was important and that I stay."

Didn't Alfred also say that he met the love of his life during that little trip? Arthur would be sure to do them both justice and write her in. But what did she look like? What did she act like?

"That's unfortunate. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, he's a strong man. I'm sure he'll tough it out and will be better in no time. I truly hope he does."

At that time the waiter came by with a selection for lunch. Arthur wasn't particularly hungry so he only ordered fish and chips. Laura and Sofia both had a sandwich while that young Korean man (Arthur had heard the young man had swore under his breath in Korean) was too immersed in his laptop to notice the waiter.

"Sofia you speak English so well. Did you take a course somewhere?"

"You think my English is good? I don't. But I studied in Canada for quite some time. I am proud to say that I am a Canadian citizen."

Alfred did once mention that his girlfriend was soft spoken and shy at first, but the more you got to know her, the more open she had become. Now what would she have looked like?

"Arthur, your food is going to get cold."

"Thank you for reminding me, Laura."

Arthur set his journal down on to the table next to the photo that Sofia had finally let go of so she could eat her sandwich with both hands. When Arthur saw the photo, he felt himself pale.

"Sofia, you wouldn't mind if I took a look at your photo?" Oh bloody hell, bloody, bloody hell.

"No, not at all."

Arthur picked up the photo cautiously as Laura watched with profound interest.

"What's wrong?" she asked, because she had probably noticed the frown tugging at Arthur's lips. What's wrong? Nothing. Nothing at all. This was just an ordinary photo of Sofia and her younger brother, because they shared the same hair colour. But there was someone standing beside Sofia, his arm draped over her shoulders. Someone with blonde hair, eyes as blue as the sky, glasses, and a bomber jacket. And not to mention that would strand of hair that stuck up where his hair parted. A boy that looked like Alfred, a young Alfred. One who was probably only 15 or 16. Laura peered over Arthur's shoulder to take a look at the photo as well, since Arthur was at the moment being non-respondent.

"Oh Sofia, you look so small! Was this photo taken at a carnival?"

Sofia chuckled and smiled. "Yes, that photo was taken three years ago at the CNE in Canada. My brother was visiting me that time, and a few friends had invited us to join them. "

Arthur remembered three years ago Alfred had called him on the phone just to announce how much fun he was having without him, and that Arthur was a pussy for not coming. To which Arthur replied that it was impossible to get to Toronto from London within a span of one hour and no, he could not just call upon his trusty horny stallion (it did exist and it was Arthur's best friend until he met Alfred, it wasn't a part of his imagination) to bring him there.

Arthur could see things, and Alfred had refused to believe him, even though he and Alfred both once helped some ghost in Switzerland named Basch find his little sister in Liechenstein (But that's another story, starting to get off topic here)

Arthur didn't want to ask who the blonde boy was. He really didn't. Because if he did…

"Who's the blonde guy? You guys look pretty close." Laura pointed towards the Alfred look-a-like in the photo.

"Him? He's a really close friend." Sofia politely asked for the photo back and gazed at the definitely not Alfred but just looks like Alfred guy.

"His friend won him that bomber jacket at one of the games, and I don't remember a day when I didn't see him wearing it."

She lightly traced her fingers over the photo and seemed as if she were about to burst into tears at any moment. Laura should just drop the subject and forget about the not Alfred. Arthur wasn't interested in talking about it, and neither was Sofia.

"Do you still talk to him?" Drop the topic Laura. Drop it.

"As often as I can. While I studied in Canada he visited very often, even though he lived in the states."

"What's his name?" Damn it Laura, you're lucky you're already a cripple. And don't answer that Sofia, don't say it. Don't you dare think about -

Sofia then burst into tears. "Feliks Lukasiewicz." She sobbed.

That sounds nowhere near Alfred F. Jones.

Arthur felt himself relax and then noticed his knuckles had gone white from while he was clenching them in anxiety.

"There, there," he said, as he reached over to stroke Sofia's hand reassuringly.

"He's in the hospital right now- Ivan is visiting him. I just wish that I was there right now, I heard he's not doing so well."

"Hush now, lass." He reached into his bag for a tissue. Hope you're happy Laura, you should have let the topic go, but instead you just had to be so bloody nose. Laura managed to find a tissue before him.

"I'm sorry" she muttered with a look of intense regret and apology on her face. She leaned over the table and dabbed at Sofia's tearful eyes with the tissue, like the way a mother would to a crying child. The young man beside Sofia took no notice to the situation, too busy playing whatever he was playing.

"I'm –I'm- I'm going to visit him as soon as I'm done with my business in Sw-Sw-Switzerland." Sofia cried.

"I'm sure Feliks will be fine. " Arthur stated.

Sofia looked up from her pitiful state with a confused look on her face.

"Feliks?..."

Arthur looked to Laura and she understood why.

"I heard Feliks too." She whispered.

Arthur turned back to Sofia.

"feliks. The blonde boy in your photo. The one with the bomber jacket."

Sofia looked at Arthur quizzically, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Then she half laughed half cried.

"Oh I'm sorry, I mixed up the names. I'm meeting Feliks in Switzerland." She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, but more gushed out of her eyes.

"I meant to say Alfred. The boy in that photo is Alfred F. Jones."

At that moment the young Korean leapt up and triumphantly swung a fist into the air and yelled, "Don't mess with me bitches, I'm Im Yong Soo, king of Starcraft!"

This was a good thing, because it gave Arthur an excuse to scream.

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><p>Lars Von Dijk is Netherlands<br>Laura Von Dijk is Belgium  
>Sofia Braginski is Ukraine<p>


	7. Promises

Thanks to **Jalie96**, **CuteLikeMomiji **, **phomma-chan,  
>Deikuru, <strong>and **Jetfires girl **for the reviews!  
>And thanks to everyone who favourited and story-alerted!<p>

**Chapter 6: Torn Between Promises and Friendship  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia (FOR REAL?)<strong>

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><p><strong><em>I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town<br>__off my feet and I'm gonna see the world.  
><em>**_George Baily From It's a Wonderful Life (1946)_

"Alfred? That's his name?" The words were choked out of Arthur's mouth. It had been so long since Arthur had said Alfred's name out loud, he wasn't sure he remembered how to. Sofia nodded but Arthur was still in denial.

And yet he knew that…

"Alfred F. Jones?"

"Yes."

He inhaled deeply and desperately tried to calm himself down but to no avail. He tried to hide his anxiety but no such emotions could be hidden from the ever so nosy and observant Laura. While Sofia was busy blowing her nose, Laura leaned over and said in a voice only audible to Arthur, "You know him, don't you."

Arthur scowled and said nothing, hoping Laura would take the warning. Instead she pressed the matters further.

"Colour me blue, but you look kind of relieved to hear your friends in the hospital."

Relieved? Relieved to hear that Alfred was alive and breathing and not buried under the bloody ground? Of course Arthur was relieved, but it was no business of Laura's to know.

Sofia had heard parts of their conversation and said in a whisper, "Y-you know Alfred?"

Well the cat was out of the bag now.

"We're family friends. He was like a little brother to me." And then Alfred hit puberty and several occurrences happened and he couldn't just call Alfred a "little" brother anymore.

Sofia smiled through her tears.

"Small world." She mumbled softly.

Too small for Arthur's comfort. A continent away, and he still couldn't escape from Alfred.

"Sofia?"

"Y-yes?"

"are you…" The question got caught in Arthur's throat, but he managed to spit it out. "Are you Alfred's girlfriend?"

There was a moment of silence as Sofia hesitated, as if contemplating.

"Yes." She finally said. "I'm his girlfriend." There was a bit too much conviction in her voice for Arthur's satisfaction and something was obviously up. She paused and waited to see if Arthur would say anything, possibly even an objection, but he said nothing and for once he had wanted to listen rather than speak. Waiting for the words, "engaged" and "marriage" but they never came. As Laura piled her medication on the table, the tension slowly broke down, and by the time the waiter came with their dinner the only thing left in the air was dried tears.

Sofia had finished her dinner first and began to speak.

"I um…" Laura had leaned in forward to listen as well while Sofia sent Arthur a pleading look and he knew what she wanted; a private talk with him about something concerning Alfred. Arthur sent Laura a discouraging look and she leaned back into her seat. "Kill me for being curious." She half heartedly grumbled.

Sofia mouthed the word, "Interlaken" and once again there was that silent understanding between the two. Interlaken was Sofia's stop, and the train would briefly linger there. If the two wanted a private conversation, they would have to wait until then.

The lights were now dimming but Arthur couldn't bring himself to sleep. He took out his I pod and pressed shuffle and gave a satisfied smile when it began to play his favourite song, "Vida la Vida" by Coldplay. By now blankets and pillows were being distributed and most of the passengers had turned their lights off. Only one glowing beacon was left in the dark and the soft whispering slowly turned into a dead silence. The soft glow illuminating from his I-pod allowed Arthur to see the outline of Laura's sleeping form and the Korean who had finally fallen asleep due to exhaustion, his laptop's light casting deep shadows on his face. He looked across at Sofia who was also still awake. She reached out and placed her hand on top of Arthur's and he shifted his palm so that they were both clasping hands, both sharing a heavy unspoken burden, both worrying about Alfred, both trying to reassure the other that everything would be okay.

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><p>"After I graduate high school I'm moving back to London."<p>

"Aw, you're such a meanie, ditching me."

Arthur merely rolls his eyes and continues to walk and read, ignoring Alfred as he blew raspberry noises. Alfred was balancing himself on the train tracks and had his arms spread wide like a trapeze artist, only lacking the grace.

The air was humid and there was that odd musky smell hanging about. Arthur's hair clings to his sweaty forehead and he wishes he just wore shorts like Alfred because the jeans he was wearing were constricting, giving his legs no room to breath. The two of them were spending their last days of summer together because given school time, they wouldn't see each other as often as they would like. Arthur was in high school and was entering 9th grade while Alfred still remained in elementary school, going into 6th grade. Alfred had not even hit puberty in the slightest. His voice was high pitched and he still had some baby fat here and there, but the age gap had never prevented them from being (Arthur would never admit this) best friends. Alfred's innocence, his obliviousness and his naivety was a refreshing break from all the stuck up arrogant drama whores (Arthur himself included) at Arthur's summer school and Alfred was a breath of fresh air.

Speaking of breaths, Arthur's was cut short when he nearly trips over Alfred (Arthur couldn't blame Alfred, he _was_the one who had been reading and not watching where he was going) but nevertheless, Arthur cusses at him out of pure habit.

"Give me a warning, you git!"

But Arthur immediately feels guilty when a look of hurt rapidly spreads across Alfred's face.

"Sorry" Alfred mutters meekly. "This is where I left my bike." He points a small finger towards a small ravine not too far off from the train tracks, and Arthur spots the vibrant red of Alfred's back leaning against a nearby tree. He affectionately ruffles Alfred's hair.

"Don't worry about it. I am the one at fault; I should have watched where I was going."

With this, a smile widens on Alfred's face and he eagerly runs towards his bike, setting Arthur's mind at ease. Arthur approaches Alfred and watches as he inspects his bike for any damage.

"Why exactly would you just leave your bike out here?"

Alfred clucks his tongue and tugs at the chain before turning to Arthur.

"My mom told me if it started raining I oughta run home as fast as I could. She told me I had to run so I thought that meant I couldn't use my bicycle to get home. "

As Arthur struggles not to laugh at Alfred's simplicity, he asks, "What were you doing here by yourself?"

In all the years Arthur knew him, Alfred was never one who enjoyed solitude and tried his best to surround himself with as many friends as he could.

"Not me." Alfred says, as he yanks at the chain and pulls it upwards on to the proper gear. " I was on my way from my Uncle Sam's house and I saw someone sitting up here in this tree. I came here and I asked him, 'Wacha doing up there?' and then he said, 'I'm waiting for you to come up here.' And then I did and we became friends but then it started raining and I was too 'fraid to come back here because it just kept raining so I waited and waited for you to come home but you took forever! You didn't come home until four days later!" Pausing from his verbal diarrhea Alfred pulls his hands away from the bike and scrunches up his face as he closely examined his now blackened hands. "He said he was from Canadia or whatever."

Arthur now leans against the tree and watches as Alfred runs to the ravine and dips his dirty hands wrist deep in water. Then the boy pulls his hands out and shakes them while sprinting back to Arthur. He holds his still wet hands up to Arthur's face.

"All clean. My mom always tells me to clean my hands when they get dirty."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Still listening to mum, huh? You aren't too cool for her yet?"

Alfred shakes his head and, strands of blond flying everywhere. "Mom knows everything."

Then Alfred's face deadpans as he looks past Arthur's shoulders, blue eyes filled with anger. Arthur turns to look at what would cause such an emotion switch from the usually cheerful little boy and was just able to catch a glimpse of two men holding hands walking along the train tracks.

"They're going to hell."

"What?" Arthur whips around back to Alfred who had said something so uncharacteristic it made Arthur drop his book. Alfred makes the sign of the cross and whispers a rapid our father under his breath. After he's done, he looks at Arthur, green eyes connecting to blue.

"The gays. They got o hell."

Arthur kneels down to Alfred's height and firmly grips his shoulders.

"Who told you that." He asks. Who told you they knew the judgement of God?

Alfred averts Arthur's gaze as he softly mumbles, "My dad." Arthur bites on his bottom lip. Alfred's dad was the church's deacon and hung by the bible by every word.

"And why would he tell you that?"

Alfred's eye brows furrow and Arthur feels his shoulders sag under his grip.

"I told him I kissed a boy because everybody in our grade already had their kisses and then he got really, really, mad. He told me I'm going to hell." Then Alfred's eyes brighten. "But it's okay, I'm not going to hell! Dad said if I get 'punish' and never be gay again, I won't go to hell!" Alfred turns around and lifts his t-shirt to reveal several blackened bruises on his back. "See?" He says proudly as he pulls his shirt back down. "I'm not going to hell!"

Arthur was filled with a mix of shock and disgust. He was appalled, to say the least. Alfred's father, Mr. Jones, was definitely only trying to beat the 'gay' out of Alfred because it would be horrible for his reputation if the congregation found out he had a gay son. This just proves to Arthur that the majority of adults are damn right idiotic; you can't fucking beat the gay out of your child.

"Doesn't your… Does your mum not say anything?"

Alfred shakes his head slowly. "No, mom doesn't say anything because if she does, Dad gives her 'punish' too. I don't know why though, Mom isn't gay, she's a girl; only guys are gay."

Arthur tries to correct Alfred but only ends up emitting some sort of cross between a sob and a laugh. He ends up sweeping Alfred into an embrace to which Alfred pulls away from. There was malice in those sky blue eyes, and he contemptuously spat out,

"Arthur, are you gay?" which severely hurt Arthur. Arthur wasn't gay, he had a girlfriend. But Alfred would now take any gesture of sensitivity from a man as "gay" and he would assume they would go straight to hell.

"No," Arthur finds himself speaking calmly. "I'm not gay. I don't like you that way Alfred, I love you but it's a different kind of love. It's like how I love Peter, or Blaine, or James, or even Rhys. "

This seems to reassure the 12 year old because the hatred in his eyes was replaced with the usual cheerful gusto.

"Good! You'll go to heaven straight away, Arthur!"

Arthur begins to silently pray in his mind. _God, why Alfred? Are you listening to me? Why couldn't I have been the one to receive the blows. What did Alfred do to deserve this?_

Alfred notices Arthur's sadness and hugs him tightly.

"But even if you were gay…" Alfred clutches at the back of Arthur's shirt. "I'll take as much 'punish' as I can so me and you can both go to heaven." He buried his face deep into Arthur's shirt. "Heaven would be boring without you."

Arthur was glad Alfred couldn't see his clenched fists behind the little boys back, or the tears streaming down his cheeks. He was glad Alfred didn't know of Arthur's contempt for Mr. Jones, and his anger at God for not protecting Alfred when he should have.

Why didn't anyone see it? How was the Jones' family able to hide the pain so well? Arthur would have to talk to his mother later, he was sure that she would be able to intervene.

But for now…

"Alfred, let's go home?"

Blue eyes glance upwards and Alfred breaks out of the embrace. Arthur notices that his own shirt was slightly damp and just before he grabs his bike, Alfred uses the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes. Then the boy gasps.

"Arthur we have a problem!"

Arthur bends over to pick up his fallen book and asks, "What is it?"

Alfred motions towards the bike.

"We got one bike but there's two of us."

"Oh there's an easy solution to that." Arthur grabs the bike and stands beside it and pats the seat. "You sit. I'll pedal."

Alfred smiles and pulls himself on to the bike cushion as Arthur pulls a leg over and begins to pedal forward.

"You're so smart, Arthur!"

Arthur just laughs as the two of them make their journey home.

* * *

><p>When Arthur awoke, his hand was lacking the warmth that was there when before he had fallen asleep. The music on his I-pod had also disappeared and Arthur assumed that it was because it ran out of batteries. On the other side of the table Sofia had a hand placed on her cheek, an elbow on the table. Her other hand lay on her phone which she was sliding open and closed. She noticed Arthur staring and politely smiled.<p>

"Good morning," she said wearily, the corners of her eyes still tinged red from crying.

"Good morning to you too."

Sofia would switch from looking at Arthur, then to Laura. She would occasionally open her mouth as if to say something, but would change her mind and close it. Finally, after fiteen minutes of this, Arthur asked, "Lass you'er gaping like a fish. Do you need something?"

"It's not me, actually."

Arthur had to strain his ears to hear Sofia's soft voice. "I just –um… You are good friends with Alfred right? And… He's not doing so well… And Feliks texted me – I don't have to meet with him this month.. Alfred would love you! I mean love to see you! And um…"

This time there was a long drag on her 'um' and Laura who was now awake cut in.

"For goodness sake, Sofia wants you to go visit Alfred with her!" She turned to Sofia and her voice became soothing and soft and all kinds of motherly. "Isn't that right, sweetie?"

Sofia nodded in agreement and looked thankful for Laura's interruption. "Yes. We can both get off at Interlaken and book a flight to Detroit. When we get there I can call Ivan and ask him which hospital Alfred is at. Do you want to come?"

There shouldn't have been any hesitation but for some reason Arthur wasn't sure why the answer would not come out. A simple 'yes' would have been sufficient. In fact, Arthur was ecstatic, joy buzzing in his ears. This would be his chance at salvation. But there was one thing he was leaving out.

"I don't have to give you an answer right now, do I?"

Laura gave Arthur an incredulous look while Sofia gave an understanding smile. "Don't take too long." She exclaimed." We have about an hour before we reach Interlaken."

Nodding his head, Arthur began to stand up.

"I'm just going to talk to someone up at the front. When the waiter comes around, just tell him I want tea."

Arthur made his way to the front of the passenger cart and spotted Matthew who was awake this time. He was animatedly chatting with Kiku about something called Hetalia and they were mentioning various country names in a way that Arthur couldn't comprehend.

"I wouldn't mind being Japan. I _do_fit all of the stereotypes." Kiku had stated.

"Well, only the good ones. That tentacle porn one is bull shit, and I am pretty sure you don't shout out, 'KAWAII DESU!' at every cute thing you see." That polite wall that Matthew held between himself and Arthur was gone around Kiku. But that was okay, it would make his and Matthew's departure that much easier.

"Thank you, Matthew. I'm glad to hear you say that."

"No problem. We should make our own anime or something, eh?"

"Ahem."

Both Kiku and Matthew looked up and finally became aware of Arthur's presence.

"Good morning Arthur." Matthew's voice became soft and polite again. "Kiku, this is Arthur. Arthur, this is Kiku. Kiku is awesome at drawing comics too, but way better than me."

Kiku slightly blushed at the compliment.

"Oh, I've met Mr. Honda already." Arthur stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes." Kiku agreed. "Kirkland-san and I became acquainted while you slept the other day." The slight smile that was there earlier on Kiku's face was now gone. "Do you have anything to say to Matthew this time?"

Arthur made a point of looking only at Matthew. "Yeah. I came here to tell you that I can't make the full trip to Italy. My brother called me and said I had to go back to London. Truly, I am sorry."

The look of disappointment on Matthew's face almost made Arthur retract his lie. Almost.

"It's okay, I understand." Matthew let out a congested cough which made Arthur remember his promise to take care of him until he was better. Someone once cynically told him that promises were only made to be broken – wait, that was Matthew that said that.

"If you have to go, I can't stop you. It was fun meeting you Arthur."

Kiku remained silent and expressionless as Arthur leaned over him to shake hands with Matthew, but Arthur could feel the aura of negativity radiating off of Kiku.

"I would have liked to have been there when you met your 'man'". It seemed as if they would be parting here.

Matthew laughed. "I would have liked for you to be there too. But I've still got to go to Italy, and then I'm going to Germany after that."

"Germany?" Could Matthew even understand German?...

"Germany, yeah. I've got a friend who lives there and he'll come to Italy to pick me up."

"Oh. You're a lucky lad then, with friends in different places."

Matthew smiled in response, but soon after Arthur's comment the air became pregnant with awkwardness.

"It was nice meeting you." Arthur restated, and Matthew waved him farewell. On Arthur's way back he began to panic. Was he truly ready to face Alfred? What if Alfred didn't want to see him? And then he was filled with guilt. Was it okay to lie to Matthew like that? Was it okay to just leave him like that? Matthew did already prove he was capable of taking care of himself, but that wasn't the point.

By the time Arthur reached his seat his tea was could, but fortunately for him his mind was made up. He didn't know if what he would choose was right, but he would stand firm behind his decision.

"Do you know what you want to do?" Sofia asked.

Arthur nodded, and then spoke the response he had repeated several times in his mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** ANIME NORTH! CAN I GET A WHOOP WHOOP FOR TORONTO? (loljksiamnotevengoing)  
>Yeah cliff hangers are awesome and reviews are always loved!<p>

your reviews may decide Arthur's decision! (I jk, but it's still nice to know what you guys would want. Even if it might not happen)

**MAJOR SPOILER:**

Arthur doesn't choose Matthew or Alfred, he chooses Kiku because all that dramatic tension they have is actually hidden love. ya rite.


	8. Revelations

Thanks to **Lydiacatfish**, **Jetfires girl, Stella Solaris, Loch Ness Writer,  
><strong>and **Jalie96 **for the reviews! Haven`t been able to  
>respond because I fear that I`ll spoil the story if I do.<p>

**Chapter 7: Startling Revelations  
>Disclaimer: Hetalia I do not own. <strong>

* * *

><p><em>I'm more interested in what I discover than what I invent.<br>**Paul Simon**_

"Thank you for coming, Arthur."

"No, don't thank me. It's what Alfred would have wanted."

At least Arthur hoped it's what he did.

Sofia tugged at the sleeves of her coat and pulled them down further. There was a crisp air waffling about as people mulled about in the airport, speaking various different languages. The two sat in the Starbucks and watched as people al around them rushed about in attempts to catch their flight.

"I wanted to ask you something."

Sofia turned her attention away from the hustle of the airport.

"What is it?"

"Did Alfred mention anything about an engagement?"

Sofia frowned. "Not any that I know of. I haven't seen him yet. My brother Ivan did say there was something Alfred wanted to say to me in person. Why?"

Shite. Arthur screwed up. Of course Alfred hadn't mentioned it until they were face to face. Damn it.

"It was Alfred. He was telling me how he wanted to marry his girlfriend and that's what we were doing before… before." Before the car crash. Unspoken words, but even though Arthur trailed off, Sofia was able to pick up where he left off.

"Before the car crash." She spoke softly. So she knew. She knew that Arthur was the one who drove the car. He knew it. Everything from her body language to that disgusting look of pity in her eyes told him so. She broke away from Arthur's gaze to look at her phone.

"It's time." She said.

Arthur stood up and dumped the rest of his drink into the garbage. He had ordered a coffee. What the bloody hell was he thinking? He hated coffee.

Sofia and Arthur walked side by side, not uttering a word at all. Neither of them looked at each other. It wasn't until they reached the terminal did Arthur break.

"What would you say." He had to know.

"To the marriage?"

Arthur nodded and bit his lip to withhold a sarcastic remark.

"I'm er- sure that it would be… Yeah. The marriage would be –yes. It would be good."

There it was again. Those stumble over words, that hesitation. And that conviction that had a bit too much.

"Tell me the truth." The words had come out louder and more forceful than Arthur had intended.

"We'll both be late." Sofia muttered, averting Arthur's gaze. "I should just give you Ivan's phone number." She reached towards her purse but Arthur suddenly grabbed her hand.

"Tell me the truth." He repeated.

Sofia looked as if she was on the verge of tears, but Arthur didn't care anymore. He had already lost his patience and was sick of Sofia crying.

"I-I'm not Alfred's girlfriend."

Bewilderment. "What?"

"I lied to you." She said the words clear and concise, and that's when Arthur realized it. He'd been a fool, and Sofia had been a terrible liar.

"Why did you lie to me?"

_What could you possibly gain from that._

"To think I believed that we both actually cared for Alfred."

"We do!" Meaningless words to Arthur's ears.

"To believe that I could have accepted you as Alfred's girlfriend."

_To believe that I_ _sought salvation from you. Your forgiveness would mean nothing._

"Arthur-"

"And to think, that I would have been happy if you and Alfred had ever gotten married!"

"Arthur listen to me-"

"I made the right choice." Arthur still wasn't so sure.

"Arthur no, please let me speak."

"I'm glad I chose to continue on to Italy, because I wouldn't have been able to stand being on the flight with someone like _you._"

"Arthur you're hurting me!"

Arthur immediately retracted his hand from Sofia's arm, and he noticed the area had already turned a deep red. He turned on his heel and briskly walked away.

"Wait!" he heard Sofia shout after him.

"Wait!" he could hear her footsteps echoing off the smooth floor as she ran towards him.

"Wait!" she yelled, one last time, and clung to Arthur's arm.

"What the bloody hell do you want? Can't you see that we'll both be late? I'll miss my damn train!" Arthur spat out.

"This is important!" Sofia cried. "It's why I lied!"

Arthur pried Sofia's hands off his arm and snarled.

"What." It better be a good reason, lass.

"I wasn't sure if Alfred told you about it, but he obviously didn't so-"

Arthur snorted and began to walk away, but Sofia managed to keep up with his fast pace while talking.

"Alfred is gay! He's been hiding it from you all this time, and I wasn't sure he told you yet! I didn't know if he wanted you to find out!"

He paused in his step, only so that he was able to send her a mocking look. "Oh, I'm sure he's gay." He continued on his way.

But this time Sofia didn't bother to follow him.

"He hates you!" Sofia yelled, as she stood firm on the spot. "I know Alfred's boyfriend. And he hates you! He can't even stand the thought that you got off without a scratch while Alfred is wasting away! He wants you to die, Arthur. He said you should be the one in that hospital. He said he knows you too. And he told me, he told me that you deserve to die for what you did to Alfred back in high school!"

So many things were running through his mind at once. Alfred was gay? That wasn't possible. Alfred couldn't have had a boyfriend, no. No, that wasn't possible either. And that incident in high school – only Arthur's close friends knew about that, and that isn't even many people. Arthur had paused in his step, utterly shocked by all of these revelations. But he didn't turn around and walk back to Sofia, no. He didn't even send Sofia one glance. He did what he does best.

He ran.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The shortest chapter reveals the biggest secret.

And I bet the majority of you thought Arthur chose Alfred over Matthew.

On another note, I'm working on another story that happens in the same universe as this story. It's called _Sarcasmus_ and shows the relationships between Matthew, Gilbert, and Alfred during high school. You don't necessary have to read _Sarcasmus_, but there _are, _and _will be_ events that occur in _Sarcasmus_ that are briefly mentioned by the characters in _Happenstance. _There are already a few, but I won't point them out.


	9. Bells

Thank you to **Deikuru**, **Jalie96**, **Jetfires girl**, **Piyo13**,  
><strong>Konsui's Little Brother<strong> (that is one long name)  
>and <strong>Stella Solaris<strong> for the reviews! I really enjoy reading your reviews.  
>It`s interesting to hear people's reactions.<p>

**Chapter 8: Toll of Church Bells  
>Disclaimer: Hetalia own I do not<strong>

* * *

><p><em>It is not down in any map; true places never are.<br>**Herman Melville **_

"I was surprised when you said that you wanted to stay" Laura strummed her fingers against the table and placed a hand under her chin as she examined Arthur's not quite sober figure.

"I am a gentleman" A different type of gentleman, one that specialized in making girls cry.

"Do you like Matthew?" Laura leaned a shoulder closer to Arthur.

"As a friend, yes." Such a random question.

"Oh, I was under the impression that you two were a couple." She leaned in closer, and no longer rested her chin on her hand.

"That's preposterous." Matthew is just a boy, nothing more.

"So you're not interested in him?" Laura came even closer.

"Not at all."

"So you don't think he would mind if…" Laura and Arthur were now so close that their noses were almost brushing. Arthur could hear Laura's breath, and felt the elongated pause between them grow. She leaned in even closer to Arthur, and by instinct, Arthur closed his eyes.

And then she did the unexpected.

She whispered into Arthur's ear, "Do you think I can set my brother up with Matthew?"

Yes. Arthur had actually expected a kiss. He was currently living in one of those surreal moments when you're there in body, but you're viewing the situation as the third person. Maybe after Sofia had revealed herself, Arthur was able to achieve enlightenment. Or maybe it was just the fact that Arthur had one too many drinks that caused him to have trouble remembering how he got back on the train, and was also the reason why Laura's voice was just a little bit too loud and that she wasn't making any sense.

"While you were off with Sofia, I was talking to Matthew. He says Lars keeps texting him and asks him if I'm okay." She grinned, as if she was sharing a secret with Arthur. "I think it's just an excuse to get a reply out of Matthew. He said he's giving up drugs for my sake, but between you and me, he's only doing it to impress Matthew. Matthew had once said to my brother and I, 'You have to be seriously incompetent if you rely on drugs to have a good time.' Then he turned around to Lars with such an apologetic look on his face, it was hilarious. And he said, 'Oh but don't worry Lars. I'll be your friend no matter how many brain cells you lose." And the next day Lars comes home and says, 'Laura I'm not going to do that drug shit anymore.' Oh gosh, my brother is totally smitten by Matthew, and I have no problem about them being gay, Matthew's a great influence for Lars."

Once again, it took Arthur quite a while to process everything and then realization hit him.

"Lars texted Matthew?" Because out of that entire conversation that was the only thing Arthur got out of it. Also because Lars _shouldn't_have been able to text Matthew.

"Matthew was telling me how Lars gave him a tulip and some dorky love note. "

_The note!_"But I swear I threw out that damn thing!" Arthur blurted out, and then began to blush because Laura was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Arthur was caught.

Again.

"Matthew told me how he saw you throw out the note."

Arthur groaned. Damn that Matthew! And why did he feel so embarrassed? It's not like he had any ulterior motives behind it, he just didn't feel as if Lars was a suitable candidate for Matthew to date. Plus, Lars only fit one of the requirements, and that was an easy one. Anyone could say they hated Chinese food.

"Everything is so messed up." Arthur grumbled, only meaning to have kept it in his inner thoughts.

"Yeah, I mean when Matthew showed me the look on your face when you read the note, I thought you were jealous. But hey, you said you aren't interested in Matthew so I'll just take your word for it."

"The look on my face?..." What the hell?

"Mhm. Matthew took a picture of you reading it."

Fuck. Arthur should really pay more attention to Matthew. He's more observant than he initially thought.

"I'm not interested in Matthew-"

"Good! I'll just tell him that Lars-"

"But I don't want Matthew dating your brother."

Laura looked slightly amused, and leaned back into her chair.

"Let me get this straight." She folded her arms across her chest assuming a bossy like position. "You don't want to date Matthew?"

"No, he's not my type." Or rather Arthur wasn't Matthew's type.

"So you aren't even remotely interested in him?"

"As I said before, no." Arthur felt like a broken record. No no no no no.

"And it has come to my understanding that you have only known Matthew for at most, two weeks?" These questions were amounting to something. That's where they usually went.

"That's true but we did-"

"So," Laura continued on, ignoring whatever Arthur and Matthew did together. "You aren't interested in Matthew or courting him-" Really Laura, no one says 'courting' anymore. "-and you've barely even known each other". Arthur felt his blood begin to boil, because he suddenly caught on to where the conversation was going. And he didn't like it.

"I don't think you have any say about who Matthew dates." Laura finished with a smug grin on her face.

"I don't think you have any say about what I do." Arthur mockingly repeated in a tone similar to Laura's.

Maybe it was the alcohol playing tricks on him but it seemed as if Laura's demeanour changed to something uncharacteristically hostile.

"Well I no longer care what you think, your opinion is invalid. I'll just tell Lars to go right on ahead because you aren't obviously going to do something anytime soon."

"Do something? I'll do something. I'm going to tell Matthew to get his arse back to Canada because there is a potential rapist on the loose and he goes by the name of Lars Von Dijk and the continent has no longer become a safe place."

"Like you're any better." Laura snarled.

"In fact, I am." Arthur raised his voice as if it proved how much better he was.

"You don't know a thing about Lars." Laura stated, in a volume that equalled to Arthur's.

"You stand up for your brother and yet he leaves you in the rain for fucking god knows how long! If it wasn't for Matthew, you'd still be there!"

Arthur's head began to pound and the beat in his head was starting to reverberate throughout his body.

"And if it wasn't for you, I'd be sitting beside Matthew right now! You basically robbed him and my brother!" Laura shouted, her face turning near red.

"Doesn't matter. Your brother probably stole all that money anyways!"

"I'm glad you aren't interested in Matthew because I'd feel sorry if he dated an ass like you!"

"Well you know what? Maybe I will date Matthew just to spite you!"

"As if he would even agree to date you!"

"The same goes to your brother! He-"

Their argument was interrupted when Arthur's pocket suddenly erupted in to song. Annoyed, he pulled out his phone and answered.

"What the bloody hell do you want?"

There was a long pause, and then came his brother's voice.

"Matthew told me he could hear your argument from where he's sitting. He asked me to tell you to calm the fuck down."

Arthur was about to reply when he heard the dial tone indicating that his brother had hung up.

Fuck Blaine and Laura for trying to tell him what to do. Fuck Sofia for being a lying bitch, fuck Lars for being Lars, and fuck this damn headache.

"You're an asshole." Laura shouted, intent on having the last word.

"And you're a cripple." As soon as the words left his lips, Arthur immediately wish he could have taken them back. Laura looked just as stunned as he had felt, and she turned her head away.

"I thought you were better than that."

Arthur didn't say anything. He had thought so too.

"I'm-" Arthur was interrupted yet again by his phone. He picked it up and his brother rapidly spoke saying, "Wow Artie, that was a low blow, insulting a crippled person. And stop lying; Matthew said I told you that you had to come back to England. England is actually a much quieter place without you. Oh and Francis called, he wants to meet up with you sometime. Stop being a dick and don't come back 'til you have a good story. Bye."

Once again, Arthur wasn't able to get a word in before his brother hung up. And it also seemed like everything Arthur had run away from was finally catching up to him. He glanced at Laura's forlorn form, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He exclaimed softly. "I went too far."

She refused to look at him and said nothing. But Arthur had an idea. He knew what would make her forgive him.

"You're right, I have no right to choose who Matthew dates but…" his voice trailed off, and he waited for Laura to catch the bait.

"But what?" she asked, turning to face Arthur. It seemed that Arthur was right, her curiosity overrode her anger.

"Matthew reminds me of a dear friend of mine. His ideals, his actions, even the words he says are similar to my friend's. I can't help but feel over protective."

"Matthew reminds you of Alfred, doesn't he." Laura was too astute. She needs a hobby.

"Yes. Matthew and Alfred are both quite close in age. And I can't help but feel as if we've met before…"

Laura grinned as if she knew something that Arthur didn't.

"Oh don't we all have that feeling." She coyly said, hinting towards something. The question was what?

Before Arthur could ask what she meant, a voice over the intercom had announced that they had arrived at Alessandria.

"That's us!" Laura exclaimed, having reverted back to her cheery state. Arthur had to admit, Laura was (slightly) scary when angered.

Arthur helped her out of her chair and into the wheel chair, and then took their luggage from the compartments above. He made his way to the front entrance where Matthew was saying his good bye to Kiku.

"I'll see you online sometime, NihonNinja"

Matthew hugged the Japanese man who looked a cross between embarrassed and distressed. When they broke the embrace, he shyly smiled and said, "Most definitely. We should camp some elves together sometime, CanuckWarrior."

They both laughed at their little inside joke only making Arthur a _little_bit jealous. Matthew finally waved his last good bye and wheeled Laura away. Arthur made to follow them but Kiku lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Kirkland-san, please remember what I said." _Those who we have known the longest can harm us the most._

"Mr. Honda, I believe Matthew is a lucky person, because I have not known him for that long. I don't see what may be the matter."

Kiku sat down with that stupid expressionless expression that Arthur was glad he would never have to see again.

The Japanese man shook his head. "What disappoints me is your ignorance"

Arthur left with no intention of saying departing words, no need to say good bye.

As soon as Arthur exited the train, he was hit in the face by a wave of humid air. The three of them still wore their coat for the sake of having more of their arms free (well Matthew actually still had Arthur's coat) and they stood on the side walk, waiting for a taxi. Soon they were on their way towards the village known as 'Imperia', some place that bordered the Mediterranean Sea. The ride was filled with small talk and Laura just mentioning tidbits of information on her family friend, Antonio. From what Arthur gathered, Antonio was Spanish, rich, but lived in a very modest household.

"We're going to Germany after this, right?" Arthur asked. He couldn't see his expression because he was sitting in the shot gun, but could tell that Matthew was smiling by the tone of his voice.

"I'm going to Germany. I just have to make a call to my friend to pick me up. I didn't know you were coming along."

Oh right. Arthur had kind of assumed that they were in the trip together.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Gilbert won't mind if you come along I'll just text and ask."

Arthur could not help but feel a bit jealous. When it came to Lars and whoever this Gilbert guy was, Matthew seemed to actually use his phone. Also, why did the name Gilbert sound so familiar?

"We're here." The taxi cab driver announced. Matthew thanked him and generously paid the driver while Arthur helped Laura out and took the luggage from the trunk.

But not long before the three had stepped away from the taxi did a body go flying towards Arthur, sending the two of them colliding to the floor. Before Arthur could even mutter a curse, the person who crashed into him was up on his feet and running. "Check your pockets!" Laura shouted, but Arthur didn't need to be told twice, he could feel the weightlessness of where his passport and wallet were. He instinctively looked up and saw a young man with dark brown hair running off. Without hesitation, Arthur sprinted after him and ignored the protests of Matthew.

The two of them ran through several alley ways that were constantly twisting and turning, and ducked under the rare clothesline. The thief would occasionally knock down anything he could to slow him down, but unbeknownst to the pick pocket, Arthur was quite the punk at heart. He had spent the majority of his high school years roaming the streets late at night, once upon a time when he lived in America. It was invigorating, and reminded Arthur of the past, of the better years when he didn't really care about what anyone thought, when keeping the image of student council president while being a late night vagrant was just a game.

To say the least, Arthur was actually enjoying himself.

The young man finally made a break for the open streets and ran right into a church. Arthur grinned mischievously; there was no way out of this one. Arthur ran after the boy and into the church, which was your standard run-of-the-mill European styled church. Of course, Matthew would have been amazed but Arthur had been in enough churches for one life time.

The pews were empty save but one person, so Arthur was able to immediately spot the pick pocket. It didn't seem as if he was trying to hide either, because he was standing at the center aisle. His clothes were worn out as if they had seen better days, his green eyes were feral, and he looked around probably Alfred's age. Arthur could hear footsteps behind him and assumed that it was Matthew that followed him, (no offense, but how could it have been Laura).

"Give me back my stuff." Arthur demanded, as he slowly advanced forward.

"Fuck off!" the boy shouted, with a heavy Italian accent. He flinched as Arthur took another step forward, but still stood his ground.

"I'll beat you, you little bastard!" Arthur snarled, as he continued down the aisle towards young man.

"You wouldn't!" The Italian yelled back, but his aggressive expression quickly turned to one of fear when he realized that yes, Arthur _was_going to beat the shit out of him.

"We'll see about that." Arthur grumbled, as his heart pumped adrenaline throughout his body. He was now close enough to hit the thief. Arthur raised his fist and quickly brought it swinging down, his body remembering all of the fights of his past. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him backwards, and he landed on the ground next to Matthew.

"Are you stupid?" Matthew hissed, as he tried to contain the thrashing Arthur. "This is a church. Don't fight in here."

Matthew's tight grip only made Arthur struggle even harder. "What does it matter to me? I don't even believe in a God anymore!"

He broke free of Matthew's hold and surged forward, throwing all of his weight into his punch. This thief was stupid because he truly thought that this church was a sanctuary. He didn't move an inch, and Arthur felt a bit of satisfaction as his punched connected with flesh. But the feeling was short lived, because before him the thief was still standing. Beside the thief on the floor lay a boy with brown hair and equally brown eyes, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

"I don't want your help, you bastard." The thief stated, as he extended a hand towards the boy. The boy graciously took it but was still slow to get up to his feet. "Fratello, don't say that." The boy said. "You don't mean it."

The thief mumbled something that sounded like a fuck you, but the boy ignored it. The boy looked at Arthur, the left side of his face already beginning to bruise.

"You don't have to believe in God, everyone's entitled to their own beliefs. But that doesn't mean you are allowed to disrespect those who do believe." The boy, who couldn't have been a day over 16, pointed to the crucifix that hung over the altar. "This is the Lord's house. Please respect that and do not fight."

"See? I told you, you bastard. You can't fight in here." The pick pocket shouted. The boy whipped around to face him.

"That also means you shouldn't use such vulgar words, Fratello."

The pick pocket began to speak in rapid Italian, and from the sounds of it, he was quite angry. The boy replied in the same dialect, only in a gentler tone. The pick pocket eventually threw his hands up in exasperation and the boy smiled, as if he had won some argument. The boy stepped forward.

"My brother apologizes for stealing your things, and he will give them back."

The pick pocket shouted something in Italian that made the boy frown. "Really? Fratello, that's not nice."

The boy shouted more words and the boy sighed. "Not him?" he said, as he gestured towards Arthur. The thief shook his head and Matthew had to hold Arthur back, because Arthur _knew_the thief was insulting him and he was going to strangle him. And it's a good thing they're in a church because then when Arthur killed him, the thief would get to heaven faster.

"My brother wants to speak to you." The boy gestured to Matthew. Matthew nodded, and then turned to Arthur. "Stay put. I'll get your stuff back." He promised, as he followed the thief up to the stairs of the church that lead to a balcony which over looked the first floor.

After they were out of ear shot, the boy sadly smiled at Arthur. "I am Feliciano Vargas." The young boy held out a hand.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur was surprised at the smoothness of the boy's hand. It was a hand that could probably guide a paintbrush across a canvas. It's the sort of vibe Arthur got from Feliciano, with him being so spiritual.

"Forgive my brother, please. He is really a kind person."

"Kind people don't steal." That's a universal fact.

"The way you speak, I believe you are from England, no?"

Arthur nodded. He was quite proud of his roots and how his accent distinguished him from everyone else.

"Then I think you would know the tale of Robin Hood. He was an outlaw that stole from the rich and gave to the poor." Feliciano stared off at the mosaic on the church wall. "Is that not a source of kindness within thievery?"

This boy… he was like Matthew. Young, but so much wiser than he should be for his age. What was he thinking of when he stared at that mosaic? Was he thinking about the existence of evil? Life after death? Why the universe exists?

Finally after a long moment of silence, Feliciano smiled as if he had finally discovered the answer to all his problems.

"Blue is a really pretty colour."

Okay, maybe Arthur was wrong and Feliciano just liked staring at pretty colours. Maybe sometimes things were just as simple as that.

Soon, Matthew and the thief had returned.

"Let's go?" Matthew said.

Arthur looked at Matthew's empty hands and frowned.

"You didn't get my stuff back."

Matthew shook his head. "I'll get it eventually, don't worry. Oh rub that sceptical look off your face and have some faith."

Arthur groaned. "'Have some faith'? Is this a pun because we're in a church?"

A smile. "I'm glad a few words actually manage to get through your brain."

Before Arthur could make a witty retort, Matthew turned back towards the thief who stood beside Feliciano.

"We made a promise, Lovino. God is our witness. Don't forget that."

The thief named Lovino nodded. "I won't forget it, Matthew Williams."

Matthew and Arthur exited the church, the latter feeling quite disgruntled.

"You didn't get my stuff back."

"Possessions are what tie us to earth and prevent us from entering heaven."

"That's fine and dandy but you still didn't get my stuff back."

"You're quite the selfish person, aren't you."

Arthur paused in his step and was feeling a bit embarrassed because what Matthew said was true. So far, everything Arthur had done on this trip was for his own gain, not anyone else.

And then Matthew smiled and lightly kissed Arthur on the cheek.

"I'm just joking. You're so cute when you're flustered. "

Arthur stood there, dumbstruck and speechless. Speechless, huh? Matthew seemed to be the only one capable of robbing Arthur of his words.

Matthew, who had now put a considerable amount of distance between them turned around.

"Laura is waiting, " he stated, and he continued to walk.

Arthur quickened his pace and was soon rafting after him. Wasn't it ironic? Arthur would always run away from his problems, but this time was different. This time he would be running after Matthew.

* * *

><p>I was debating on whether or not I should have introduced Spain in this chapter, but I figured the Italy brothers were enough.<br>Is it just me or is there like MatthewXEveryone. MatthewXKiku MatthewXArthur MatthewXLars. It's as if you won't really know who Matthew will end up with until the end of the story.


	10. Incomplete

Sorry for the gigantic delay in updates. I usually write this story while  
>I'm in my accounting class, and now that I no longer have accounting I<br>don't have any time to write. (Such a contradiction) Anyways, thanks to  
><strong>Stella Solaris<strong>, **EpiclyDork'd**, **Deikuru**, **HeartlessLittleHamster**, **Piyo13,  
>SocklessxinxSeattle<strong>, **Jaile96, Jayshock **and **Loch Ness Writer! **Much thanks!  
>Especially to those who have been with me ever since I started this story, and have<br>stuck with me! (You guys know who you are!)

**Chapter 9: The incomplete puzzle  
>Disclaimer: Do I really even need one?<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>The only way of catching a train I have<br>ever discovered is to miss the train before.  
><strong>_G. K. Chesterton __

"You've run off and now look what happened. We're lost."

"Oh shut up, we're not lost."

There was a brief pause, and then,

"You're right. If we keep following this road we'll eventually end up in Rome."

"That is preposterous. Rome is over 800 kilometres away from here."

There was a soft sigh. "Should I even bother? Jokes are wasted on you, Arthur." Right, _All roads lead to Rome._

"Matthew, I am quite offended. Did you just imply that I'm humourless?"

A snort. "I don't believe it was an implication, it was more just a statement of a fact."

"And what else shall you factually state?" It was just a rhetorical question, never meant to be answered.

"I've never seen you smile. And I mean a real smile." Matthew lightly touched Arthur's hand. "Are you still bothered by… that?"

That. The accident. The life changer. The killing. No matter how you said it, it was always the same.

"Yes." A curt reply.

The surroundings were beginning to become more familiar. Could you call it familiar? They had only been here for an hour at most.

"I have an important question. It doesn't regard your past at all."

"Ask."

There was a mischievous smile. "Have you ever thought of having a child?"

Arthur was a bit stunned at the randomness of the question. "Did we not have this conversation before?"

"No, that was between Laura and I. This is a question for you."

"Is this really important?"

"Do you want your stuff back?"

"Are you really asking me that?" A game. It was always just a game.

"Of course, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Matthew stopped in his tracks, eyes boring straight through Arthur. The silence spoke in volumes, shouting his intended words, _Please, just answer the question _but the words never came from Matthew's lips. Matthew appeared lost in thought, as if he was playing out multiple scenarios in his mind. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and let out an exasperated sigh.

"You're so difficult." He said softly.

Suddenly there were sirens, and the two watched as several fire trucks went speeding by. Matthew clenched and unclenched his hand into a fist.

"Is there something wrong?"

Matthew turned to Arthur, and for a second there was a distant and icy glare in his eyes, pure hatred hiding just behind his irises.

"Matthew!" Laura shouted, appearing from just around the corner.

The look was gone.

In her excitement Laura rolled forward, not noticing the small piece of concrete jutting out from the side. The right wheel hit the piece and the wheel chair began to tip to the right. While her wheel chair began to topple, a man suddenly appeared and dove forward, face planting in to the ground as an attempt to cushion Laura's fall. Unfortunately, his efforts were wasted. Laura slammed her elbow down on the left arm rest, the weight causing the wheel chair to balance itself.

"Tony, you're getting your good clothes dirty." Laura chided, scolding him as if he were a child.

"How unfortunate!" He replied, in perfect English. "I dressed up just for you too." He stood up and brushed himself off, then leaned down towards Laura.

"Kiss it better?" he asked, a finger pointing to his cheek.

"Gladly," she complied, as she gave a light peck.

So that's why Lars hated Antonio.

The man whom Arthur assumed was Antonio had sun-kissed skin, a radiant smile, a buoyant step and a pleasant personality. All the adjectives were synonyms for the word sunny, so Arthur mentally dubbed Antonio, "Sunny." Because his very presence burned Arthur's eyes – in a bad way. Take that, Matthew. Arthur can be funny too.

"Hello! I'm Antonio Hernandez Carriedo! Just call me Tony though,"

"I'd rather not. I'm Arthur Kirkland."

"May I call you Artie?"

"Please refrain from doing so." Or else you will be strangled.

As the two shook hands Arthur noticed Matthew mouth, _Artie_with a bashful yet shy smile.

Then Antonio stepped to the left and eagerly grabbed Matthew's hand. Matthew blushed as his personal bubble was invaded.

Arthur smiled. _Serves you right._

"Hello Matthew! I've heard only good things about you from Laura. May I call you Mattie?"

Matthew tenderly smiled. "If you want to, that's okay"

Arthur stopped smiling. No, he was not jealous by the slightest with this nickname calling. He was merely disgruntled by the way Antonio butchered Matthew's beautiful name.

Yes. That's exactly what Arthur had thought. Or made himself believe.

After the greetings, the four of them made their way to Antonio's house, Antonio carrying Laura's luggage. To pass the time, he would speak of his family's old farm where they grew tomatoes.

"You speak English so well." Matthew remarked.

Antonio smiled, revealing pearly whites that Arthur would love oh so much to punch out. "Ah, that is a long and tragic story. It started with a dog and ended with a stop sign. " He ran a hand through curly brown hair. "Long story short, I know more English and Italian than I do Spanish, which is quite humiliating seeing as I am of Spanish background."

"Quite humiliating indeed." Arthur stated rather loudly.

There was a brief look of hurt on Antonio's face, which disappeared when he walked into a pole.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked, as the man shakily pulled himself to his feet.

"I'm alright!" he said in a wavering tone. Soon he was all smiles again, but he no longer made any attempts at conversation.

Then Matthew's phone began to ring, his customized ringtone blaring through his jeans. He hesitantly pulled out the phone, as if unsure that it was actually ringing. Then after a good few seconds, he realized that it wasn't an illusion and he began to fumble with it. Seeing as the other three had nothing better to say to each other (or maybe it was the fact that whenever Antonio tried to say anything it would just piss Arthur off and he would make a better remark) Matthew's conversation was anything but private.

The volume setting on his phone didn't help either, because Arthur could hear every single word the person on the other line shouted, like the very obnoxious, "_Where the fuck are you, blondie?_"

However, Matthew looked delighted. "It's been years since we last talked, and that's all you can say? And I told you, I hate that nickname!"

Matthew stumbled over a broken bottle and almost fell over. Arthur switched his luggage to his other hand and grabbed held of Matthew's to guide him. He was so into his conversation, he almost crashed into a telephone pole.

Despite the humid weather, Matthew's hand was oddly cold.

"_Oh sorry," _The voice on the other end cackled. _"I forgot you're super sensitive. I meant, 'birdie'"_

Matthew almost walked into someone and Arthur tugged hard on his hand to avoid causing a pedestrian road block. After pulling Matthew away from crashing into the fourth person, Arthur was fed up and dragged Matthew to the nearest bench while ensuring that Antonio and Laura followed.

"This is nice!" Antonio commented, as he sat down beside Arthur and stretched on the bench, taking up all available space. Seeing as the bench was full, Matthew sat on the bench across from them.

"So…" Laura said, trying to initiate conversation. "Did you get your stuff back?"

Bad question. "No. Those damn gypsies still have it. They can't make a living so they have to steal off from people who do."

"Don't be like that," Antonio grimaced. "Not all of them have a choice."

Arthur scoffed. "They do. They could choose to not steal and choose to get a job."

"Easier said than done. If they didn't steal, they wouldn't be able to eat."

"They could rot for all I care."

Antonio stood up to face his opponent, his smile growing smaller by the second.

"They have families. Children. They need to feed their children."

"Who cares? They sell their children for profit anyways."

Now Antonio was frowning. "You're heartless". How sharp of him to notice.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, amused.

"That the best you can come up with?"

"I'm not trying to insult you, my friend."

"Since when were we friends?"

Antonio was frozen in place, unsure of what Arthur was connoting.

Then Matthew returned, having finished his phone conversation.

"Antonio, do you know of any hotels nearby? Arthur and I need a place to stay for a while. Somewhere cheap."

Antonio's bright smile was relit. "You can stay with Laura and I."

"Really?" Matthew asked in good faith. "I don't want to impose or anything…"

Arthur was soon on his feet. There was no way he was going to stay in that damn Sunny's house. Maybe the nickname he made was horrible, and maybe Antonio had done nothing wrong per se, it was just Antonio's very being that pissed Arthur off.

"Matthew I-"

"-Think that it is a wonderful idea!" Antonio finished, as he wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulder, much to the latter's dismay. "Arthur and I were getting along just fine."

And before Arthur could attest, Matthew smiled and softly exclaimed, "That's good to hear. IT would be rude to turn down such a generous offer, almost down right un-gentlemanly." He turned to Arthur, a playful look in his eyes. "Right Arthur?"

All Arthur could do was nod and mentally berate himself for being so shallow and actually caring about his 'gentleman' reputation.

"It's settled! We will go to my place, unpack, and as my treat we will eat out at one of the finest restaurants I know!"

With gusto that reminded Arthur of Alfred, Antonio took both Arthur and Laura's luggage and headed off, pushing Laura's wheel chair with his foot. Matthew and Arthur stayed behind, Arthur intent on giving Matthew a piece of his mind.

"Don't say anything." Matthew whispered. "I know he aggravates you, but there's no reason for it, he has done nothing wrong." Ever the astute one, Matthew.

Arthur sighed. "He reminds me of my best friend. Always cheery no matter what. It's… disconcerting." And it hurts so much.

Matthew softly chucked. "Yeah, I had a friend just like that too. He was like an endless pit of radio active hyperactivity."

"Sounds like my friend." Arthur had once used Matthew's exact words to describe Alfred.

"It's a one in a million chance, but who knows, it might be the same person." There was a forlorn look, and then Matthew asked, "What was your friend's name?"

There was no harm in telling Matthew, right? He hasn't asked for anything much, just in a name.

"His name was-"

"Oh gosh, I can't see Laura or Tony anymore." Matthew stated, effectively cutting Arthur off. He apologetically smiled. "I guess we'll talk about this some other time, before we get lost again."

"Quite right." A hand was held out. "Shall we go?"

Matthew stared at the invitation, curious.

"It's only until we catch up with Laura and Antonio. I don't want you to get lost. Because that would mean a lot of trouble for me." Arthur hastily added the last statement.

Matthew tentatively placed his hand in Arthur's.

"I guess that seems reasonable."

"Of course." Arthur is everything reasonable, except logical.

The two ran after Antonio and Laura, but as soon as they came into view, Matthew let go of Arthur's hand.

"I guess we won't get lost." He said meekly.

The feeling of his cold hand still lingered, tingling Arthur's finger tips.

* * *

><p>"We're in Italy." A blunt statement.<p>

A pale hand reached over towards the napkin.

"Excellent observation." Matthew commented, as he began to unravel the napkin.

"And we're in a Chinese restaurant. " Arthur continued.

Matthew finally finished unravelling, revealing two long chopsticks. "A deduction worthy of Sherlock."

"And," Arthur gestured a hand over the eight course meal that covered the table. "We are eating Chinese food."

"Chinese food? In a Chinese restaurant? What will they think of next, Indian food in an Indian restaurant?"

Arthur grumbled something inaudible and British, to which Matthew playfully stuck out his tongue. Then with great precision and accuracy, he properly used the chopsticks to pick up the sweet and sour chicken. Antonio also had no trouble using the chopsticks. While Laura was viciously stabbing the food and making a duck kebob, Arthur resorted to the same method but only in a much more subtle manner.

When Arthur had first seen the restaurant, he thought Antonio was joking.

A Chinese restaurant.

In Italy.

Of course.

But Antonio had assured them all that the food was wonderful, and that the owner was a good friend of his.

Speaking of.

A young lady was strutting her way to the table, and judging by the way how all the waiters parted like the red sea, her aura of authority, and the way she wearily looked at Antonio, she was the owner. She had jet black hair which was tied up in a ponytail and was wearing an outfit similar to that of the waitresses.

"I knew that I smelled something rotten." She exclaimed, as she threateningly looked over at Antonio.

Didn't Antonio say he was good friends with the owner?

Then the woman rakishly grinned and gave Antonio a death grip hug.

"Tony! Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

Antonio laughed. "It was a last minute thing. I had guest to entertain, and no time to call you."

The young women glanced over Antonio's said guests, but her gazed lingered a bit longer over Matthew.

"Have we met before?"

"I don't believe so," Matthew stated apprehensively, but Arthur had been around Matthew long enough to know that it was just a façade and there was something that Matthew knew that everyone else didn't.

"Anyways," The women held out a hand to everyone. "I'm Vy Nguyen, owner of this wonderful restaurant." Vietnamese woman, Chinese restaurant. Interesting.

"Arthur Kirkland, pleasure to meet you."

"Laura Von Dijk"

"Matthew Williams."

Vy hesitantly shook Matthew's hand, a speculative look on her face.

"Matthew Williams, huh? That sounds awfully familiar."

Matthew just shrugged his shoulders. "It's a common first name and surname."

Shaking her head and recollecting herself, Vy clapped her hands together. "Alright! I'll delay you no longer, dig in!"

* * *

><p>Arthur bolted up right – a bit too fast, for he felt all the blood rush through his head, a loud ringing sound in his ears. The light was flooding through the room, and it was probably really late in the afternoon. Draped over him was a blanket and he found that he was currently vacating a couch. He was in some sort of hotel room.<p>

A nice hotel room.

Wearing nothing but boxers.

"Fuck!" he shouted.

There was a chuckle from what was probably the kitchen, and someone said, "So you've finally awoken."

Not knowing what else to say, Arthur found himself numbly replying, "Yes."

"Would you like something to drink? You ingested quite an amount of vodka, so I'm assuming you have a tremendous hang over."

Oh god. Arthur was drinking? And he had now awakened in a stranger's hotel room with nothing but boxers. He was sore all over, that was for sure.

There was the sound of shuffling feet, and a man of heavy build with short platinum blond hair emerged.

"Bloody Mary?" The man had a thick Russian accent, and two red cups in his hand, handing Arthur one of them. He graciously accepted it and quickly downed the offered drink in one swoop, gulping for air when he was finished. After he set the cup down on the coffee table, he inspected himself, and the more he did the less he liked. He had bruises in odd places and he couldn't remember anything after he ate at that damn Chinese place.

"Uh…" He glanced awkwardly at the other man wearing only pants, as he disappeared into the hotel bedroom. "Did we?..."

The other man poked his head out of the door frame just to give Arthur a creepy smile. "It was a rough night." He ducked back into the room, opening what were probably drawers and the cabinets.

Arthur shivered, and pulled the blanket over his bare torso.

"Just… how rough?"

There was a brief interlude before the other man spoke. "Well, you fell down an astounding number of steps and it was quite difficult lugging your drunken body here – not to mention you managed to puke all over yourself. "

"Oh…" Relief. It's a wonderful thing.

The other man re-emerged and handed Arthur a pair of worn out jeans and a superman t-shirt, which both seemed to small for the stranger and not his style.

"Your clothes are beyond salvageable. Wear these and leave." Arthur stood there a bit dumbfounded.

"With haste. I don't want to explain why you're here to my friend." There was a daunting look in the strange man's violet eyes, and Arthur needed no further encouragement. He already had the jeans on, so he followed the man outside the hotel room. As Arthur scrabbled to put on the t—shirt, he crashed into someone. The other person briefly whispered a sorry, and by the time Arthur had properly put on the shirt, the person was gone. But judging by the shouting coming from the room he left, Arthur had a good feeling he knew were the other person went. There was a loud sound and a big thud, as someone shouted, "Nyet, you stupid American!" and then there was more crashing. It was probably best to leave now, before police arrived.

As Arthur took the elevator to the ground floor he had time to ponder about his situation. He was alone in a city where he couldn't speak the official language, had nowhere to go and no recollection of what happened the night before. That actually sounded like a good prompt for a story, if it wasn't already a movie.

When Arthur stepped outside, he was approached by a man who seemed to appear out of the shadows.

"Oh it's you." Arthur said, barely trying to hide his excitement.

"I'm just as happy as you are." Lovino muttered.

"What more do you want from me? You've already stolen everything I have."

Lovino scoffed and said something in Italian. "Fuck, just follow me." He turned his back and began to walk away, but paused when he saw Arthur wasn't following. "Hurry up. I don't get paid if you don't follow me."

Of course. That wasn't conspicuous at all.

But what else could Arthur do? Call Matthew? With what phone or money did he have? So Arthur followed Lovino through several streets. Lovino seemed confident that he knew where he was going, but he was kind of a clutz. He was constantly tripping over his own feet or crashing into inanimate objects. Arthur felt ashamed that this was the very same person who pick pocketed him. IF it wasn't for his promise to Matthew, he would have beaten Lovino into the ground.

"We're here." Lovino announced, as the two came upon a very rustic and abandoned looking building which was elevated on a higher level.

Soon Matthew, Laura, Antonio, and Feliciano appeared through the buildings front doors; Antonio and Feliciano excitedly chatting with each other. From the distance, Arthur could hear their laughter, Feliciano constantly saying something that sounded like, 'Ve'.

"What does 've' mean?"

Lovino gave him an incredulous look. "The fuck you say?"

"Ve." Arthur repeated. "I can hear your brother saying it from here."

"Ve?..." And then Lovino threw his arms in frustration. "I swear everyone is fucking deaf! It's bene, bene! Bene means good! Listen closely!"

And now that Feliciano was drawing nearer, Arthur could hear the full, "bene".

"You're right."

"Of course I'm fucking right!"

"Fratello, you're here! Bene!" Feliciano called out from the platform above, leaning over the railing. He hurriedly ran down the stairs but at the last step he tripped over his own feet and fell face first.

Lovino and Feliciano were definitely of the same breed.

"It's good to see you're well, my friend!" Antonio called out from the top of the steps. He was carrying Laura bridal style and slowly made his way down the steps.

"You okay?" A soft voice that came from behind him. Arthur nearly jumped at the sight of Matthew, who some how managed to appear out of nowhere who had a concerned gaze.

"Don't worry about it." Arthur reassuringly squeezed Matthew's hand.

"Good. I was afraid after last night you would be mad at me..." Did they get into an argument? What exactly happened last night?

"Sorry, last night is still a bit foggy to me. A little refresher would be appreciated."

"Well, after Tony proposed to Laura-"

"Antonio proposed to Laura?"

"Si!" Antonio called out. He swung Laura around who was still in his arms. "She said yes!"

Laura giggled as Antonio set her down on the wheel chair they had left by the stairs, and they soon joined the others. When Lovino saw Laura he took her hand and kissed it, earning a "Bene!" from Feliciano.

"I am Lovino Vargas."

Laura smiled kindly at him. "Laura Von Dijk."

"Do I get a kiss?" Antonio laughed, as he expectantly held out his hand.

Lovino instantly frowned "You can have this." He said, as he flipped him the bird."

Feliciano held on fast to Lovino. "Fratello, stop that! It's rude!"

"Ah, so you're brothers!" Antonio surmised, as he glanced back and forth between the two. "What a happy family!"

"We're orphans." Lovino stated bluntly. Awkward silence.

"Feliciano, you are a wonderful painter." Laura randomly commented.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed proudly. Then his shoulders sagged. "I got accepted into an international Arts program in France…"

Antonio patted the young man on the back. "Don't look so glum! Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes but…"

Suddenly the clock began to chime, causing Feliciano to gasp.

"Fratello, we're late for church!" he yelled, and he sprinted off.

Lovino hesitated and glanced at Antonio.

"Him?" he said, with obvious disgust. Antonio had a confused look on his face, but Matthew seemingly knew what to say.

"It was either him, or Arthur" And just why did Matthew sound apologetic?

Lovino bit his bottom lip and then nodded with a satisfactory look on his face before running off after his brother.

"What was that about?" Arthur wondered.

"We were checking out some museum and we just happened to run into Feliciano. He said he also painted and showed us his art work." Matthew responded.

"No, that's not what I mean." The part about the, _It was either him, or Arthur._

"Oh," Matthew said with mock confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Matthew's hiding something.

"So!" Antonio slung an arm around Arthur's shoulder and ignored the look Arthur gave him. "What _are _we talking about?"

Arthur sighed. He was _really_ starting to hate Italy, almost as much as he hated France.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:  
><strong>Vy Nguyen is Vietnam.

I am so sorry for the delay. Also, there are _a lot_ of back stories (none of which are necessary to understand the plot) and whenever I'm introducing a new character, it takes me a while to write the chapter. And yes, Vy and Matthew have met before, and it involves the reason why Vy has a _Chinese _restaurant in _Italy_. Her story will be revealed eventually, just not in _Happenstance_.

Arthur is such a dick to everyone.

And yes, that _was_ Ivan in the hotel room, so you can probably figure who it was that Arthur crashed into in the hall.


	11. Forbidden

Thank you to **HeartlessLittleHamster**, **Deikuru**, **Xou**,  
><strong>Jalie96<strong>, **BM .Real.X7** and **Miss. Jessi-Pon** for reviewing!  
>Reviews are always welcomed!<p>

**Chapter 10: Anakin Skywalker's Forbidden love  
>Discliamer: I disclaim your face.<br>**

* * *

><p><em>Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.<br>**Helen Keller**_

"I'll kill you."

Feliciano was confused. His uncle was pointing a gun at him. His mom and dad lay on the ground, not moving, both oozing something red.

"I'll kill you." His uncle repeated.

Feliciano was only seven. He didn't know what that meant. He didn't know what his uncle was doing. His uncle was a kind man who had loved them all dearly. What was going on? Why was he shouting?

"Feli, I'll do it. I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you."

Feliciano didn't understand. He couldn't understand.

His uncle fired at Feliciano, just clipping his shoulder. Feliciano winced at the pain.

"I won't miss Feli, I won't miss."

Suddenly his uncle fell over and Feliciano saw something metallic and shining sticking out of his back.

Lovino was there, standing behind their uncle.

"Let's go." Was all he said.

* * *

><p>"We're back, Grandpa!" Lovino and Feliciano sang, as they entered the tent.<p>

"Welcome back," their 'Grandpa' said. He wasn't really their grandpa; it was just that everyone in the gypsy camp called him that. He didn't even look like a grandpa.

The two brothers pulled out three hundred Euros, each.

Grandpa smiled, and brushed some brown locks out from his face.

"You boys have done so well. Lovino please leave, I want to talk to Feliciano for a moment."

Lovino hesitated, but Feliciano cheerfully bounced about. "Don't worry brother, grandpa and I won't be long!"

Not quite feeling reassured, Lovino left.

"Come here," Grandpa said, gesturing towards his lap. Feliciano slowly complied. He always disliked this, but it made Grandpa happy.

When Feliciano sat on Grandpa's lap, the old man began to tug at Feliciano's shirt. "Pull down your pants," he whispered.

Feliciano did it. He didn't know any better, he was only eleven.

Then Grandpa reached into a place which felt extremely uncomfortable for Feliciano. Feliciano didn't know why, but he began to cry.

"Don't cry" Grandpa said. But Feliciano couldn't help it, he always cried when Grandpa did this.

There was a click, and both Feliciano and Grandpa looked up to see Lovino standing there, holding the gun that he had once stolen from a police officer.

"Let him go, fucker." His brother commanded, pistol aimed straight at Grandpa.

"You wouldn't fire at me, Lovi." Grandpa cooed.

"Don't call me that!" Lovino spat. He turned towards Feliciano. "Get your clothes on, we're leaving."

"Don't Feliciano."

Feliciano was torn.

"I'll fucking shoot!" Lovino screamed.

"No, you won't."

Feliciano hurriedly put on his pants and shirt and stood beside Lovino.

"You have no where to go," Grandpa warned, as the two brothers walked out of the tent.

"Close your eyes," Lovino whispered to Feliciano.

He did.

Then there was a loud bang, and a cry emanating from the tent.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>"You little bastard, give us back our money!"<p>

Three men towered over Lovino, each taking turns kicking him.

Lovino screamed for help, but no one came. Who would help a gypsy? They probably thought he deserved it.

Sometime he lost consciousness. When he awoke, the stars hung above him.

"Fuck," he muttered, as he picked himself up and checked his pockets.

Good. The money was still there.

He rushed towards the abandoned building. The room was small, yet filled with many canvases. Most of them were filled with vibrant colours and paintings of various people, things, and animals. All were created by Feliciano.

There was no light, so Lovino wouldn't have to explain his bruises until morning.

"You're back!" Feliciano cried cheerfully, throwing himself on to Lovino.

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino said, as he tried to push Feliciano off without crying out in pain. He pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket.

"I got paid today," Lovino lied. He pushed the money into Feliciano's hand. Feliciano was always reluctant to take the money.

"Brother, you should keep this money for yourself! Don't give it to me!"

"No," Lovino insisted and Feliciano said nothing more. Instead, Feliciano placed the money inside the only desk they had.

"Let's go to bed," Feliciano said, as he walked over to the mattress on the floor. Above it on the wall, the only decoration in the entire room hung a cross. Feliciano kneeled in front of it and motioned for Lovino to do the same.

As they prayed, Lovino couldn't help but thank God that for tonight, Feliciano and Lovino wouldn't be going anywhere.

* * *

><p>His eyes were opened and his lips were sealed tight; it was the middle of the night and Arthur was trying to decipher the soft words Matthew spoke into the phone.<p>

"What do you mean they're gone? Are you saying when you showed at the hospital, they weren't there?"

The room they were sleeping in was vast and moderately empty with the exception of the cabinet, the bed, and the couch. Laura had said Antonio lived modestly.

Modest Arthur's arse. Antonio lived in a fucking mansion, and even with enough rooms to accommodate an army, there was only one guest room. It didn't matter though, by now Arthur and Matthew were used to sharing.

"Did you try calling him?... He turned it off? Well… just call me if you reach them okay? I doubt he'll pick up if I call him. Thank you, bye."

Arthur rolled over in the bed so that he was facing Matthew's back.

"Trouble?" he asked.

Matthew sighed as he slid his phone into his pocket. "Yeah, but I can't say I wasn't expecting this. This was most likely to happen." He slipped into the washroom connected to the guest room and came back in a set of new clothes. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on some socks.

"You are going somewhere?" Arthur asked.

"Somewhere far" Far as in, an hour's drive away or far as in next continent far?

"Just how far?"

Matthew slung his backpack over his shoulder and hung his camera around his neck. "Far enough."

"Alright, let me just get some clothes-"

"No." Matthew stated, voice soft and commanding. "I'm going by myself."

"Let me come with you." Please.

"I'm sorry Arthur. I don't need you right now." Abandonment. Rejection.

"How long will you be gone?" Arthur wearily asked, feeling too dejected to argue.

Matthew unlocked the hinges of their room's window.

"I don't know."

Clack.

"You are… you're leaving through the window?"

Matthew hauled one leg over the window sill. "If it was through the front door, you would have followed me."

An accurate assumption for as soon as Matthew disappeared from his sight Arthur had grabbed his own jacket and rushed to the front door of the mansion.

But by the time he got there all he could see was darkness beyond the illuminated front porch.

Sluggishly, he returned to the room and opened all the drawers of the cabinet, but could not find a single article of clothing belonging to Matthew. The sketchbook that lay previous on the nightstand had vanished.

Matthew was gone, and there wasn't a single thing in the room that had ever hinted he was even there.

* * *

><p><em>Day One<em>

"Arthur! Laura and I are going to visit Feliciano! Would you like to come?"

"I'm fine. I would like to go wandering on my own."

Or rather Arthur would want at least one day in Italy where he wouldn't have to put up with Antonio.

"Alright, I will see you later!"

"Unfortunately."

Arthur was left alone. And when he was left alone, he was forced to think. His mind conflicted between his worry for Alfred and his worry for Matthew. What were both of them doing right now? Which one should he be more concerned about?

Then his heart ached when he realized that he may never see either of them again.

* * *

><p><em>Day Two<em>

"Hello, Artie?"

"James? How odd of you to call me." Because you only called whenever you needed money.

"Mmm, yeah, it _has _been a while huh. We haven't spoken often, a shame that is."Only because you were the brother who fucking ran off with all of dad's money.

"Hm. How much money do you want?"

"Brother! I am offended! I do _not_always call when I need money."

Arthur grinned when he heard Blaine in the background shout, "Yes, you do."

"Give the phone over to Blaine."

"What? You don't want to talk to me?"

"No one in our family wants to talk to you. You're the grim reaper; all you ever bring is bad news."

Then the conversation became serious. "I actually do have bad news. Mr. Jones called us yesterday."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. If Mr. Jones called, could it be that Alfred-

"Mrs. Jones passed away."

Arthur would be a liar if he said he didn't feel any relief. It was still saddening, but at least Mr. Jones didn't call about _Alfred_dying.

"When's the funeral?"

"We missed it." What.

"We missed the funeral?... What did they do, bury her the minute she died?"

"No. She died about two weeks ago. Mr. Jones said Mrs. Jones' heart couldn't handle that Alfred was in emergency care." All of the Kirkland family knew that Mrs. Jones was a strong woman. They all knew that Mr. Jones was an abusive husband and an emotional wreck.

"And Mr. Jones decided to call us about it _now_?"

"You know Mr. Jones, one to always be secretive. The funeral was _extremely _private. Just him and his son, I believe."

"And how is Alfred?" What's worse? Knowing that someone has died, or wondering if they're alive or not?

"Mr. Jones wouldn't say. I think he disconnected his phone too." It's actually a hard question. If they're dead, you mourn forever. If you think they're alive, you're forever searching for the impossible.

"Fuck."

"I know."

"Right then!" The sudden change of mood in James' tone surprised Arthur. "You still want to talk to Blaine?"

"Yes please."

"How's it been, Artie?"

"The woman I considered my second mother has died, I have no idea whether Alfred is alive or not, and Matthew has just disappeared off the face of the earth. Other then that, I'm fine." Sarcasm at its finest.

"Aye. Don't scream at me, because the lad _hasn't _disappeared off the face of the earth."

"You know something, don't you." Now Arthur felt like he was out of some loop.

"Of course I do. I'm his confidante." Good for you.

"Then tell me where he went."

"I don't know where he's gone." So much for being his confidante.

"Then I don't see why-"

"But he told me he's thinking of heading back to Canada." It only takes a day by plane to head to North America. It's already been a day. Arthur hung up, not wanting to hear anymore.

* * *

><p><em>Day three.<em>

Vy rigorously shook her head, her ponytail whipping back and forth.

"No. I haven't seen Matthew."

"Thanks anyways."

Arthur turned to leave but was stopped by a strong grip on his shoulder.

"I might know where he is." You could have just said that in the first place.

"He once said if he ever went to Italy, he'd go to the Lake resort on Naboo. I think it has to do with that show called Star Trek?" It's Star _Wars._

"Thanks lass. I'll be off then."

"It's no problem. And I'm sorry about what happened a few days ago." Arthur could only remember that a few days ago he woke up with a hangover in some random Russian's hotel room, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Vy what actually happened. Sometimes it's better to not know.

* * *

><p><em>Day four<em>

"Oh Arthur! Fancy running into you! Want to sit down and Chat with Laura, Feliciano, and I?"

Arthur stared wearily at the cheerful Antonio and the bouncy Feliciano. Antonio seemed to be hanging out with Feliciano everyday now. Didn't he have a job?

"I'd rather not. Do you know of a place in Italy where a star wars scene was filmed?"

Antonio beamed. "I do, actually! The place is named 'Villa del Balbianello.'" So the git _is_actually useful.

"How far is that?"

"It's in Milan, so two hours by taxi"

Fuck that. Arthur didn't have any money and he wasn't about to beg Antonio for any.

"Is there any other way?"

Feliciano piqued up. "Fratello knows a way, but it's quite dangerous."

"I don't care."

* * *

><p>Quiet anger.<p>

So angry that when Arthur saw Matthew just standing there, precariously leaning over the railing with a paper and pencil in hand, it was so unrealistic and unbelievable that all Arthur pertained was a low, thrumming, quiet anger.

The words that he had rehearsed many times on the way there were lost, and he found himself standing there merely absorbed in the simplicity of life.

He was speechless.

In just a few strides, he was soon leaning against the railing beside Matthew. Matthew's eyes were red and he gazed solemnly out towards the Lake.

"You're a fucking bastard, you here? Fucking git." The words Arthur said dropped heavy into the air, as Matthew continued to look on, saying nothing, not even bothering to acknowledge Arthur's presence. "Bloody hell, I've had a horrible shit excuse as a vacation because I'm spending most of it chasing after you. You know what I did for you? I fucking prayed. I prayed to God and I made a deal with him. I said, _if you let me find Matthew, I'll pray everyday._And here you are."

Arthur paused, trying to read the expression on Matthew's face, but he remained stoic.

"You are important to me, you know? I would do anything to help you find that British accent guy who swears in French and whatever the fucking else it was. So cheer up lad, I'm here to help you whether you like it or not."

Then Matthew turned to Arthur, the faintest expression of surprise on his face. He reached towards his ear and – oh fuck no, Matthew was wearing earphones.

"Arthur, when did you get here?" Arthur silently screams in his mind.

"Just now." A lie, a bloody white lie.

"Oh good." He turned towards the landscape and smiled. "I always wanted to make a confession here. Profess my undying love." So dramatic. But Arthur couldn't complain, he had been thinking the exact same thing.

"Is there someone that you love?"

"Yes." Arthur's heart jumps.

"What's he like?" Positively British and dashing, perhaps?

Matthew chuckled. "There's only one word to explain him, which was funny because he's everything to me"

"Really? What's the word?"

"Awesome." The sound of butterflies fluttering in Arthur's stomach.

"If you love someone, why are you on such a ludicrous man hunt?"

Ten seconds later, Matthew turned to face Arthur and pointed to his ear. "Sorry, did you say something? I thought you were done talking so I turned on my music again."

"No, nothing at all."

Matthew delicately smiled and plunged his hand deep into his bag and after five minutes of tossing a few items out – really, is it necessary to carry a two pairs of 3D sunglasses?- he withdrew a roll of scotch tape.

"Endless vortex," Arthur muttered as he watched Matthew knelt to the ground and taped the paper on to the guard rail, smiling and being all proud of his work.

"What is that?" Arthur questioned.

A smirk. "My confession." He brushed off the soil on his jeans, pulled on his back pack, and began to walk away.

Unable to resist, Arthur leaned down to read the note, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Matthew was smiling politely, but Arthur could tell that he had over stepped the boundary. Reluctantly, he backed off and turned away. As they walked, Matthew tried to strike up a conversation.

"So how did you get here? I know you don't have any money, and this place _is_quite far."

"It was nothing. I just jumped on a cargo train"

Laughter. "I did that once. They go pretty fast. My mistake was attempting to stand up." And there went Arthur's attempt at an impression. Jumping on trains is just an every day thing for Matthew.

* * *

><p>Once more, Matthew was on the phone at the middle of the night.<p>

"What? Mathias knows where they've went but he's not telling you? Then… Well, tell Berwald code 63. I know it's pretty severe – yeah it's the one with the handcuffs- but you know I'm starting to get a bit desperate. Thanks again."

As Arthur rolled over, the bed groaned from the shift in weight.

"I won't leave this time." Matthew reassured him as he crawled back in to bed.

"Should we really be sleeping together if you already love someone?" Arthur asked, once Matthew had settled in beside him.

"It's not like we're having sex or anything."

"But do you really trust me not to do anything to you?"

"No." Well that was blunt.

"Then do you love me?" Arthur hazily asked, not really expecting an answer.

The absence of sound.

And then, "I don't hate you." But do you love me?

* * *

><p><em>"I'm in love with your soul," Arthur stated, as he lightly pressed his lips against Matthew's hand.<em>

_A look of a bemusement graced Matthew's face. "What do you mean?"_

_Arthur knelt down, and produced a small box from his pocket. "Matthew, I have been madly in love with you ever since I had first seen you, during the 1500's. I won't let you go this life time."_

_"Arthur…"_

_"Don't." Arthur stated. "Don't call me that. Call me what you used to. Call me England. And I'll call you America, just like before."_

_Before Matthew could protest, 'England' stood up, and brought the boy into a tight embraced. Their lips locked and -_

No, that idea doesn't seem to work.

_The shockwave of the explosion carried out through several blocks, the sound carrying out even further. Amidst the rubble and debris lay two men, sprawled on the floor, bleeding intensely – but neither of them dead._

_"Fuck," the one with short wavy blonde hair uttered, as he rolled over on to his back. "That is the last time that I go in deep."_

_His companion beside him lay on the floor, sandy-blonde hair dusty and emerald eyes a bit dilated. "You're just too soft, love." He murmured, as both men slowly and shakily rose to their feet._

_They surveyed the carnage – that explosion had taken out the entire left side of the building._

_"Well that went as planned," The sandy-blonde stated, as he brushed the dust off his once pristine suit._

_"Planned?" scoffed the younger of the two. "We fucking blew up right into the sky! We probably blew up Cameroon too."_

_"Minor casualty."_

_"I hope you don't say that when I die."_

_The older man tipped the younger one's face to his. "We can't die, darling .That's what makes it so fun."_

_There was the sound of sirens in the background, signifying the need of departure._

_"A quick kiss?"_

_Matthew huffed. "Fine, just for you Arthur."_

That doesn't sound right either. Arthur crossed out both lines and lightly tapped his finger against the side of the bench.

_I want to shank Matthew so badly with a fork and have him scream my name while I -_

"What are you writing?" Matthew inquired, leaning over Arthur's shoulder.

The soft yet startling whisper created a small shriek from Arthur, and he desperately tried to cover his attempts at beginning a story with his hands.

"N-n-nothing!" he squawked, moving as far as the bench would allow.

"If you say so." Matthew returned to his side of the bench and continued to flip through the gallery in his camera.

Matthew had told Arthur that this would be one of their last days in Italy and said that he wanted to take more pictures of buildings. Arthur came along, hoping to gain a muse. All he actually really gained was a headache.

"Has Antonio been hanging around Feliciano lately?" What did that matter to Matthew?

"Yes."

"Good. You'll get your things by tomorrow and then we can leave."

How could Matthew be so sure?

Matthew quietly cursed and grabbed on to Arthur's arm. "Come on. We're going to be late."

"For what?" Arthur was sure they had made no plans.

That face splitting grin. "Church."

* * *

><p>"Some people pray for money. Others, for love." Feliciano paced through the pews, returning hymn books to their upright position. "Even with our prayers, one could say we are sinners." He paused, as if contemplating what he had said. "Is there really any sincerity in our prayers?"<p>

His only audience was Arthur, and for some odd reason, Antonio was there too.

"There is. Those who pray for others, and those who pray for peace." Antonio responded.

Feliciano kindly and sadly smiled. "But are you praying for peace because it's what you want, or are you praying for it just so you could get into heaven? In the end, there is rare a time a Catholic does a good deed out of the goodness of their heart. Their main goal is usually to get to heaven."

Arthur anxiously looked about, not particularly interested in the lecture. Where exactly was Matthew?

"Then Feliciano, do you ever pray sincerely?" A good question, Antonio.

Feliciano blushed, embarrassed. "I would be a liar if I said I didn't."

"What do you pray for?"

Feliciano paused, his face set in thought. "I pray that I would one day find a guardian so I will be able to go to school in France. I have a scholarship, but I can't pay for the housing. I wouldn't mind living on the streets, but I need an eligible guardian to ensure that I can support myself financially. I've collected enough money from odd jobs to pay for supplies, but the guardian is the problem. All I need is a name, but no one wants to support a gypsy."

"I'll be your guardian."

Feliciano's eyes widened, and both Arthur and him uttered out a, "What?"

"I'll be your guardian." Antonio repeated. "I'll pay for everything."

Feliciano's mouth hung open, his face in total shock.

"You don't have to live on the streets." Came a voice from the back of the church. Out from the shadows stepped both Lovino and Matthew.

"Fratello…" The younger Italian murmured.

"I have been saving money from my jobs – don't give me that look, you fucking Brit, I didn't steal any of it- and Matthew has offered to pitch in."

The little Italian was at a loss for words, so instead, he burst into tears.

"This is so.. so… Ah, bene, bene, bene!"

During this display, Matthew placed something into Arthur's pocket. His things had been returned.

"How?" he asked "And where's my iPod?"

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "I promised Lovino I'd help Feliciano find a guardian, and hey, Laura always wanted to be a mom." And Matthew avoided the question about the iPod.

Arthur laughed. Feliciano was way past the age considered a child.

"But what if Antonio didn't want to adopt Feliciano?"

"I would have forged your name."

"You're kidding."

Matthew's stoic face said he wasn't.

"We will celebrate this!" Antonio declared. "Tomorrow, I will host a party welcoming the two new children into the family!"

"Two?" Lovino asked in surprise.

"Correct." Antonio winked. "You're coming with us to France too, Lovino. I don't have to adopt you, but your more than welcomed to come – I'll pay for the ticket too."

Feliciano jumped up and down in glee, while Lovino stood there bewildered.

Matthew took this as an opportunity to put down the kneeler and pray. Arthur did the same. He promised God, didn't he?

Arthur prayed for Alfred, prayed for Mrs. Jones, and prayed for Matthew. He hoped that Alfred was alright – Arthur would have felt extremely guilty if the lad wasn't.

Then Arthur almost stopped himself. Feliciano was right. It was hard to find a prayer that didn't involve something a human being wanted.

* * *

><p>The party was held at a karaoke bar. There was a stage, where singers and drunkards alike would both attempt a tune, and a dance floor where bodies co-mingled, and grinded against each other. Just how many people did Antonio know? And just how much money did he have?<p>

Arthur sat at the bar, trying to abstain from too many drinks. It was a setting like this where Alfred and Arthur would hang out, and he just couldn't bring himself to enjoy it. A body situated itself beside Arthur, and over the boom of the loud speakers he heard a voice say,

"Smile. Have fun." So it was Matthew.

"I don't feel like having too many drinks tonight." He gestured over the eleven glasses set in front of him.

"You don't need a drink to have a fun time."

"I just need them to forget all my wrongs."

The alcohol in the cup he held sloshed about as Arthur turned his body to see what Antonio was doing. The man had one arm draped over Lovino, whose face was red. Lovino kept on casting sidelong glances at Laura who sat beside them, steadily clapping her hands to the beat. Even Vy was there, having supplied the food.

It seemed as if everyone in town was here, but Arthur still felt so alone, longing for the loud and cheerful voice of Alfred's.

He never thought he'd actually think that.

"-sing?" Matthew stated, a small tug at Arthur's arm.

"What?" Loud music, soft voice, please lad, don't expect to be heard.

"Let's sing." A finger pointed towards the now empty stage.

Arthur viciously shook his head.

"Fuck no."

Then Matthew leaned over and whispered into Arthur's ear, "Today's the day I'll make you smile," and dragged him all the way to the stage, ignoring all his protests. He grabbed the microphone and shoved it at him, taking one for himself as well.

"I don't know any songs," Arthur hissed while wearily looking at the people who were glancing up at the stage.

Matthew smirked and withdrew what looked like Arthur's iPod.

So that's where it went.

"Last song you listened to was Viva La Vida, so we'll sing that." Matthew mouthed something to someone off stage, and soon the music began to play.

"Bloody hell," Arthur whispered. "I hate you so much."

Arthur didn't feel in the mood to sing, but nonetheless he had soon found himself tapping his foot to the beat.

"_I used to rule the world_," Matthew began, voice soft and light. "_Seas would rise when I gave the word. Now in the morning I sleep with him,_" Matthew gestured towards Arthur, _"When I wake, I kick him outta home," _

This garnered a few giggles from the ladies. Arthur blushed furiously and whispered out of the microphone, "Those aren't the lyrics."

"I know," Matthew whispered back, eyes glinting with excitement. "It takes good skill to make up lyrics on the spot. Not everyone can free style."

And now it became a challenge.

_"He's a wicked and wild thing, blew on my cock, well I let him in."_ Arthur grinned as Matthew attempted to stifle a chuckle. It _was_ a long time since Arthur last sang – probably during his last high school musical. _"Shattered windows and the sound of thumps, people couldn't believe I was a noun."_

Arthur truly smiled for the first time.

The two continued on, much to the pleasure of the crowd, earning several hoots of laughter.

Arthur scanned the dance floor, wondering -

Wait.

_Blue eyes._

It was Arthur's turn to sing again, but he paid no attention. He ignored Matthew's look of puzzlement.

_Framed glasses._

Arthur dropped the microphone, creating a loud and high pitched ring. Several party goers covered their ears.

_Blonde hair._

He jumped off the stage.

_That untameable cow lick._

He tried to push as many people out of his way.

_And a brown bomber jacket._

He ignored Matthew as he called out his name, the incredulous look on Antonio's face as he passed by. But by the time Arthur reached the dance floor, the person Arthur had seen was gone.

"Alfred!" Arthur shouted over the instrumental music. "Alfred!"

No one responded.

Arthur had no doubt that it was Alfred he saw. Arthur long since passed the meaning of impossible. What Arthur was really afraid of was-

No. That wasn't possible. Alfred had promised him it would never happen.

"Are you okay Arthur?"

Matthew had followed Arthur to the dance floor.

"No" he said brusquely. Why do people always ask that fucking question when it was so obvious that he wasn't okay?

"Do you want to sing another song?" A pleading case.

"No." Arthur was the judge.

"Please Arthur, another song. Just –" Matthew was the convicted.

"God damn it no! Find someone else to sing with"

The room was practically silent as Arthur pushed his way outside into the dark night. He faintly heard someone call out, "I'll sing with ya, birdie!" but he paid no attention.

All that was on his mind was Alfred.

There was another person outside, leaning against the wall away from the bar's window. One oddly familiar man who held a bottle of clear liquid in his hand which definitely wasn't water.

"We meet again." The man said, but Arthur ignored him because he had much bigger concerns and he didn't want to be reminded of how he woke up in the man's hotel room.

"Alfred!" Arthur called out, his voice echoing throughout the darkness.

"The last person to walk out of that door had taken the first taxi cab in sight." _Now_Arthur was paying attention.

"Bollocks," he cursed outwardly. "Fucking bollocks."

The man offered his bottle which Arthur snatched and brought to his lips. The liquid burned all the way down his throat.

"That is a very unique way of singing," the man commented, referring to whoever was karaoke-ing inside.

"Mm." Unfortunately, Arthur was too busy attempting to get drunk to care.

"An albino singer. How interesting."

"Yes." Arthur really didn't care.

"That blonde also has a nice voice. Quite cute too."

"Truly." That was something Arthur could agree on.

"Ah… They are quite intimate I see. The albino is groping the blonde."

Arthur spat out his drink and turned to see what the Russian was talking about. _  
><em>  
>There was Matthew, dancing extremely closely to an oddly fa-<p>

What the fuck.

The other karaoke singer was Gilbert Beilschmidt.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>

I've already written out the next chapter, it will probably be posted on Monday.

I apologize! This will be a long note, and I try to keep them short but I can't help it this time, there's so much I've been wanting to say about this story, but I'll talk about the chapter first. **(So you don't have to read this!)**

This was quite a long chapter - initially it was supposed to be half of what it is, but I'm glad I finally got to write Gilbert in.

There are two parts that are in italic (The story that Arthur is attempting to write). I've some how managed to show my failed story ideas which I loved too dearly to not have them read.

And the part where Gilbert, Matthew, _and_ Arthur can sing wasn't just plucked out of the air (Although the lyrics they sang were). It was hinted in _Sarcasmus._

If you didn't know Gilbert was coming, maybe you haven't been paying enough attention to Matthew.

There are a lot of stories within Happenstance, and I don't just randomly throw in characters (even Korea, he was on that train a few chapters ago for a reason but it doesn't pertain to Happenstance)

In _most _stories that I've read, England usually get drunks and then this rapefest happens. I don't mind that, I just kind of wanted to expose the darker nature of drinking and its consequences.

All in all, Happenstance is just one of the stories out of the many in this universe I've kind of called, _Seven people,_based off the theory that we are all connected by seven people in the world. I've made several references to other stories that I plan on writing, but not until Happenstance is finished.

One of them being why Alfred is in Italy with Ivan (because you'll never actually find out in Happenstance)

I want to say more, but I can't without spoiling the story.


	12. Good Bye

Thanks to **HeartlessLittleHamster**, **Deikuru**, **Jalie96**, **The-doodle-queen  
><strong>and **Xou **for the reviews! Also, early happy birthday to **Deikuru!** And thank you  
><strong>Jalie96<strong> for the nice and long review! I enjoy reading long reviews. Yes, I am  
>one of those annoying people who constantly ask others for an opinion and<br>I am never satisfied with my own work. Reviews are loved!

**Chapter 11: Good bye, My Love  
>Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, every chapter would end with a cliff hanger.<strong>

* * *

><p><em> One's destination is never a place, but<br>rather a new way of looking at things.  
><strong>Henry Miller <strong>_

Arthur's eyes did not deceive him. It _was _Gilbert, the very same Gilbert from his high school, who was singing with Matthew.

"_Headaches make this shit flow from my brain, time's moving on, but the clock reads the same. I'd prefer it that this not get around, folks don't like to hear that the world is upside-down._"

Gilbert was rapping, and Arthur hated to admit it, but with his gruff voice and Matthew's soft tone, their voices complimented each other.

_"It's breaking apart and we're helpless at heart, this continuing memory just won't let me sleep, I don't know, man, I don't know, A dark and gloomy navy colour is slowly creeping from deep inside,"_

Arthur and Gilbert used to be in a band together back in grade 8. They had a fall out in grade 10.

Artistic differences.

"_Heey hey, could you maybe play it again? Kalinka? Malinka? Snapping the bowstring Tell me, tell me, what should I do? This feeling's kinda pulled one over me Loud and clearly, 5-2-4, Freud? Keloid? Strike the piano Soon you'll laugh at e-ve-ry-thing, Dancing faster like an idiot with me"_

Then in grade 11, Arthur became student council president. He was a _damn _good one. Which was unfortunate for Gilbert, who formed a gang. Arthur did everything to squash Gilbert's little rebellion, one of the things involving creating his own gang. At some point, it no longer became an exclusive school fight. It soon spread to the streets, and became so big that the police had gotten involved.

And now here Gilbert was, in Italy, singing, dancing, and practically shoving his hands all over Matthew's ass.

And Matthew looked as if he was enjoying it.

That just won't do.

The strange man chuckled as Arthur forcefully pushed his way back inside and headed towards the two singers. Once he had gotten closer, he could see that Gilbert had a new addition to his facial features – a scar that stretched from his ear and stopped just before the corner of his lip. When the two had stopped singing, the crowd erupted into cheers. Matthew had spotted Arthur and jumped off the stage with Gilbert close in tow. Once the three were in close proximity, tension began to stir.

"Kirkland," Gilbert hissed.

"Beilschmidt." Arthur growled back.

The Lion and the Snake, both predators ready to strike.

Arthur grabbed Matthew's arm and dragged him through the crowd, aimlessly heading nowhere, ignoring Gilbert as he called out to them. Finally when he believed that he had lost Gilbert, he made it outside. The stranger had left, so it was just the two of them.

"We're leaving," Arthur announced, but Matthew stood his ground, rigid as a statue.

"No, we're not," he calmly stated.

"Yes we are. It was my mistake to leave a lad like you alone in a place that screams rape, even if it was for just a second. That man you sang with is just one of those rapists, and a well known one at that. He's wanted in more than two countries, and –"

"I know who he is." Matthew cut in gently.

Stunned. "You do?"

"Yes. We went to high school together."

Gilbert went to Arthur's high school.

Matthew went to Gilbert's high school.

Therefore with the help of rocket science Arthur had been able to come to the conclusion that Matthew had went to the same high school as himself.

Which would be total bollocks.

"You're joking." Arthur placed his hands on Matthew's shoulders.

"No, I'm not," They were so firm for a lad who looked so young.

"Matthew…" There were so many questions that had come to Arthur's mind at once. So many. But not enough words.

"Gilbert and I were best friends. We hung out all the time."

Arthur couldn't ever remember seeing Matthew, not even once. He had seen Gilbert too many times for his comfort. Aside from the band and the gang, during their last year together, Gilbert and Arthur had both successfully gained equally important roles for their school play.

Yet Arthur had never seen Matthew by Gilbert's side. Ever.

And how could Matthew not recognize Arthur? Arthur had been the student council president for two years; he had spoken at practically every single assembly. High school may have been four or five years ago, but Arthur's appearance couldn't have changed that much.

"Do you know me?" he asked.

"That's an extremely odd question." Oh right. It was. It would be best to rephrase it.

"I meant, did you know me back then? In high school?"

Puzzlement. "Arthur, I'm not quite sure I'm following."

Time to be blunt. "I went to high school with Beilschmidt. Do you remember me?" How can you not?

"You what? I can't hear you, the music is still too loud."

"I went to high school with Gilbert." Just how many times…

Matthew's face lit up. "Oh, small world. I don't remember seeing you though,"

That had to be a lie, but before Arthur could call him out on it, a voice shouted, "Birdie, where'd you go?"

Why the fuck did Gilbert just call Matthew Birdie?

"It has nothing to do with birds," So Matthew could read minds now. Or maybe he always could.

"Yo Mattie, what the fuck you doing out here all by yourself?"

Note how Gilbert somehow fails to notice Arthur's presence.

"He's with me." Arthur wrapped an arm around Matthew, grinning as he let out a small squeak.

"Once again Mattie, what the _fuck_ are you doing out here, _all by yourself?_" Gilbert dragged out the syllables on the last few words.

"He's not." A voice that is stern and commanding, a side of Arthur that only Gilbert seems to draw out. "He's mine." Arthur placed a small peck on Matthew's cheek. He smiled at the deep flush that adorned Matthew's face, and smirked at the one rapidly growing on Gilbert's.

"You douchebag!" Gilbert cried, as he roughly shoved Arthur away from Matthew. He grabbed a handful of Matthew's shirt and pulled him in; catching his mouth with his own. After they broke apart, both men were breathing heavily, each wearing an equally surprised look.

Gilbert was the first to gain his composure, and he whipped around to face Arthur.

"Don't touch my boyfriend with your faggy lips!"

"What the fuck-"

* * *

><p>"-are you doing, going out with some bloody shit eating piss slurping –"<p>

They are back in Antonio's guest room, finishing up their packing. For some crazy reason, Arthur has still agreed to travelling with Matthew, and for probably that same reason, Gilbert had let Arthur come along.

"Arthur-"

"-fucking fucker who couldn't even finish high school and doesn't even-"

"Hey maybe-"

"-show up for his god damn performance because he is a shit eating –"

"You already said-"

"-albino, who made my life at high school a living – mmph!"

To successfully shut up Arthur, one must simply place their lips on his.

"You done?" Matthew asked after breaking away, his voice extremely shaky.

They both gaze at each other, breathing in tune, until Arthur closes the gap between their mouths. At first, Matthew is unwilling, but soon his tongue is inside of Arthur's mouth. Then he pushed Arthur away, much to Arthur's displeasure.

"What was that?" Arthur is in a daze, not comprehending. He might as well be drunk.

"I don't know," Matthew replied, as he slowly made his way to his backpack to finish packing.

"You're dating Gilbert." But you just kissed me.

"I don't love him." Regret? Resentment? Arthur can't place his finger on the emotion covering Matthew's statement.

"Then why not break up with him?" So you can perhaps, be with someone you _do_love.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"If I told you, you would understand." Then what`s stopping you from telling me?

Matthew zipped up his bag and opened the window. "Tell Antonio and them I left. I hate saying good bye."

Then he is gone.

There was truth and sadness in Matthew's tone and Arthur can't help but comply. As he stares out the window that was used more as a door, his phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Bonjour mon ami, je m'appelle"

"I know it's you Francis." Bloody frog.

"And so you do. Did your brother pass along my message?"

"Yes he did,"

There is a long honking noise, and Arthur put his hand out the window to give Gilbert the middle finger.

"So I will see you soon?"

"If I travel by car-"

Arthur was interrupted by Gilbert as he rick roll'd him by using the car horn.

"What was that?" Francis, it's exactly what it fucking sounds like.

"That would be my ride."

"Then I shall keep your ride waiting no longer. I still live in the same place as before – you know where."

"I do." Arthur could still smell the stench of Francis' perfume whenever he woke up in the morning.

"Then good bye my friend," Frenemy.

"Good bye,"

"I'm coming!" Arthur shouted, as he closed his phone. He dragged his suit case behind him, and politely nodded to Laura, Lovino, and Antonio.

"Have a nice trip! Come visit some time!" Antonio cheerfully shouted.

Arthur smiled, and even though he said he will, they both know he won't.

"You're still a fucker!" Lovino shouted, which made Gilbert cackle.

Arthur threw his luggage into the trunk, not particularly caring if he scratched up Gilbert's car, and entered the back of the car. It was bad enough that Arthur had to be in the same car as Gilbert – there was no way he would be sitting right beside the bastard.

"Where's Matthew?" The person we're both here for.

"He had to take a call."

Neither spoke. Neither had anything to say to each other, except,

"I'm only letting you come so Mattie's happy, " Gilbert sourly stated.

"And I'm only here for Matthew," Arthur remarked.

The two remain silent as Matthew approached the car. His eyes were red, and tears were streaming down his face. He hastily opened the door and promptly slammed it shut.

Gilbert starts the car and drives off. It's silent, except for the muffled sniffling from Matthew. Gilbert then leaned over and whispered something into Matthew's ear. In compliance, Matthew's sniffles turned into sobs. Soon the sobbing becomes heavier, and Matthew was gasping for air. He demanded Gilbert to pull over. Once he did, Matthew had run out of the car, keeled over, and puked. From the front view mirror, Arthur had caught Gilbert's eye.

There's that sudden spark of understanding that they had once shared a long time ago, and the two silently agree to a momentary truce.

* * *

><p>"This motel is pretty shitty," Gilbert stated, as he waltzed through the door.<p>

"Two of us will have to share a bed," Arthur stated, as he eyed the two beds.

Matthew strode right past them, threw his bag on the floor, and crawled right into the furthest bed.

"I guess that's our bed."

Arthur couldn't help but cringe when hearing that.

It is late at night, and Arthur was wide awake.

Matthew is crying in the bed next to him, and Gilbert is whispering words of reassurance.

That should be Arthur.

* * *

><p>Matthew has not spoken at all, but Gilbert tries to fill the silence by chatting about the past – about high school. Arthur recognized a few of the names mentioned, but realized that Gilbert and Matthew share an extremely tight bond. A bond that wouldn't be broken so easily.<p>

As Gilbert recounted a story – one involving some man named Wang Yao- for the first time that day, Matthew smiles.

Arthur had never felt so distant from Matthew.

* * *

><p>Another night, another hotel.<p>

Gilbert is sleeping with Matthew again.

Arthur is sleeping by himself.

It's so cold.

* * *

><p>The truce is broken.<p>

Arthur attempted a conversation. He asked Gilbert how his cousin Ludwig was doing.

"Are you two still close?" he had questioned.

Gilbert pulled over, stopped the car, and left. Matthew regarded Arthur with sad eyes, and then followed Gilbert. When they returned, both of their eyes were red.

"Don't you ever fucking mention Ludwig again."

Gilbert's voice was filled with so much hatred and contempt that Arthur couldn't help but wonder, _what had happened?_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry about what happened in Italy, with Vy."<p>

"Don't mention it. I really can't even remember what happened."

Matthew sat on the edge of the bed, eyes melancholic.

"You have to." No.

"I don't want to." Don't try to force it.

"Arthur, I'm in love with –"

* * *

><p>"-Alfred F. Jones?"<p>

Arthur sipped his tea and stared at Matthew over the rim of his cup.

Gilbert had an arm around Matthew's shoulder, and was about to say something but Matthew cut him off.

"Yes, I knew _of _him. We were in the same grade. Did you know him?"

"Yes."

Arthur said nothing more.

* * *

><p>They were almost at their destination.<p>

Francis had graciously agreed to house both Matthew and Gilbert, along with Arthur.

Gilbert and Arthur wouldn't stop bickering through out the entire car ride.

Matthew forced them to stop at a motel, and the arguing had become so severe that Arthur would sleep in a different room then Matthew and Gilbert.

Arthur was awake all night, lying in bed. He listened to the room next door, where there were muffled whispers.

Then it is silent.

Then Matthew voice had pierced the silence.

"Gilbert, stop!"

Then something unexpected occurred.

Matthew called out Arthur's name.

"Arthur, help me!"

Arthur does nothing but lay there. Matthew continued to cry out his name.

Then there is a loud thud.

Matthew's cries are silenced.

It's the next day, 5AM in the morning.

There is a heavy knock on the door, and it was Gilbert who shouted, "Kirkland, open the fucking door!"

After five minutes Arthur does so, only to find Gilbert standing there with a black eye and his luggage beside him, at the ready.

"Matthew is gone."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

The song Gilbert and Matthew are singing is called "Matryoshka" and is sung by Zebra and Hashiyan. I switched between the Japanese lyrics and English lyrics. I can totally imagine Gilbert rapping that out.

_Happenstance_ is close to finishing, and I find that the most drama filled chapters are the shortest. Oh, and if any of you want to know why Gilbert was so pissed when Arthur mentioned Ludwig, you should definitely read my other story, **_Excessum_**.

Actually, I highly recommend you read it. I guess it makes this chapter a bit more sadder.


	13. The End

IT'S ALMOST OVER! Thank you **The-doodle-queen**,  
><strong>HeartlessLittleHamster, Deikuru, <strong>and **Jalie96 **for  
>the reviews! And thanks to everyone who favourited<br>and such, much appreciated.

**Chapter 12: The end justifies the means  
>Disclaimer: I donèt own Hetalia. Aw, look at that little french e my keyboard typed up.<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I never travel without my diary. One should always<br>have something sensational to read on the train.  
><strong>Oscar Wilde <strong>_

Francis leaned against the door way, arms crossed, his expression one mixed of surprise and a small hint of confusion. "I thought you would be arriving with someone else."

In response, Francis received a forcibly polite smile. Knowing him all too well, Francis gestured inside the house. "You know your way,"

A small nod. Their back, retreating into the living room.

"Would you like some tea?" Francis, the confidante. He always knew when his companion was distressed; he could tell it by the sudden politeness, the forced happiness. The mask. Because when Blaine wasn't around to take care of him, he would always run to Francis.

He headed towards the living room where his guest had lain on the couch, eyes closed.

And Francis watched as the breaking point was reached. He watched as tears marred dry, pale cheeks, he watched the look of anguish. Someone who had seen too many deaths for his age, who was forced to mature before they could grow up, who shielded their true feelings from the world.

He silently watched as Matthew Williams fell apart.

* * *

><p>"What?" The question was quite general. It had meant to include, "What did you do?" or, "What do you mean, <em>gone?"<em> and, "What are you talking about?" but most importantly, "_what the fuck did you do?_"

Gilbert merely repeated himself as if Arthur was hard of hearing.

"Matthew is gone."

They were long time enemies, once upon a time friends, spending a moment in a surreal silence where neither knew what to make of the situation.

So Arthur decided now would be a good time to punch Gilbert in the face.

But instead of fighting back, Gilbert simply paced a hand to where he was punched.

"I deserved that." Damn right you did.

Arthur opened the door a tad bit more, and gestured for Gilbert to enter. "Come inside. We'll talk about this over tea like the civil people we are."

* * *

><p>It had been 7 hours and 34 minutes from the time that Matthew called Arthur's name. It had been 2 hours and 49 minutes after that had the motel manager reported receiving payment from Matthew for both the rooms. It had been 3 hours and 15 minutes from then had Gilbert discovered that Matthew left. It took Gilbert 15 minutes to pack his stuff, and then 4 minutes to decide whether or not he should leave Arthur or chase after Matthew himself. It had taken Arthur 14 minutes to make some tea. Arthur and Gilbert had sat in silence for 12 minutes.<p>

Not that either of them had been counting.

Then Gilbert, one not so fond of the sound of silence spoke.

"Why are you crying, dumbass? _I_should be the one crying. But I'm not. Because I don't regret a damn thing."

Baffled, Arthur sputtered and choked a bit on his tea. "I'm not crying-"

"I don't love you Mattie." Gilbert continued in a monotone voice. "But I need you."

Then Arthur realized that these lines were scripted, were rehearsed, probably over and over again.

"I need you too, Gil." No, these lines weren't scripted. They actually happened.

Then as if breaking from a trance, Gilbert reverts to his normal pompous voice. "And when Matthew Williams woke up, Gilbert was gone. That's how their tragic love story ends. I guess this is retribution, and I'm getting what I deserved."

"When was this?"

"Back when I was probably 18 or 19."

Once again, the loudest silence.

"What did you do with Matthew last night?"

Broken.

A smirk. "I knew you heard." Oh the shame and the guilt were endless. Arthur could puke. "I won't sugar coat it. I had the intent of having sex with him, whether he wanted it or not."

The bluntness of that statement. There was a proper term for that. Rape. He definitely deserved another punch.

"What stopped you?"

"An engagement ring."

Arthur's mind was racing – was there a mental image of Matthew wearing a ring? No, there weren't any. None at all. Was this proposal recent?

Seeing the distressed look on Arthur's face, Gilbert grinned. "He wears it on a chain around his neck just underneath his shirt. I'm surprised you've never noticed."

"How the bloody hell was I supposed to know?" Arthur has never seen Matthew without a shirt. At least not outside the world of imagination. He imagined the boy to be pale and skinny – but not too skinny. Lean. Not muscular the way Alfred was, but muscular nonetheless. Then his mind returns to the topic at hand. "You seem rather calm for a man who has just found out his boyfriend is engaged. To someone else, I presume." Or was that just Arthur?

A laugh. Mockery? "We aren't even dating."

_"If I told you, you would understand."_

He couldn't break up with Gilbert. They weren't even together from the start.

"But then why-"

"To piss you off." Gilbert already knew the question.

Shock.

"Wait. Matthew pretended to date you because he wanted to make me jealous?"

Gilbert snorted. "No, it's nothing like that. He just wanted to piss you off."

Shock turned into anger.

"He intentionally-"

"Yes." Gilbert spat, obviously annoyed. "Yes, yes, yes. He wanted to piss you off. I wanted to piss you off. We made a plan to piss you off. It was extremely mutual. Except for the part where I wanted to fuck him. That was all me."

Arthur opened his mouth but Gilbert wasn't letting him get even one word in. "And you deserve it all. You deserve so much more. You barely even remember Matthew, but fuck, he remembers you. He remembers you _damn_well. All the shit you put him through, you deserve to die. I'm not joking either." His expression is stoic as he glares Arthur down. "You deserve to die."

"I…" Arthur couldn't remember Matthew at all. Why couldn't he remember? Matthew and Gilbert had obviously been close. Had he really done something that bad to Matthew and didn't remember it? Was he truly that horrible in high school? "I'm sorry."

Gilbert scoffed, his voice dripping with pure acid. "Sorry ain't good enough, you fucktard. Sorry doesn't bring back the dead."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fuck you."

…

Arthur never had any time for close friends. Eventually as the days passed by he drifted away from everyone. Soon he was a loner, a recluse. He worked hard and he worked by himself. He became independent and distrustful of everyone else. Gilbert was a social outcast, just because of the fact that he was an albino. People would sneer, people would stare, and people would laugh. The normally quiet and friendly smiling child had turned into someone bitter and loud, throwing insults at everyone who dared to even _look_at him. It was amazing. Gilbert was once such a polite and dignified child, quiet and seemingly afraid of his own shadow.

Arthur remembers how they became best friends; remember how they hated everyone else. How they hated the fucked up society filled with labels and categories.

He remembers how they broke apart. He remembers how he became one of the very people they hated.

But Arthur can't say he regretted it. The popularity.

Were you a bitch if all you wanted was acceptance?

"Are you going to follow Mattie?"

Snapped out of the reverie. "I don't know where he is."

Every second they spent here was another second that Matthew was becoming further away.

"Same. He's not answering his phone. I'm going to head to Canada because that just seems like where he would be. I honestly don't even know _why_I'm asking you but do you want to come with me?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Matthew isn't my problem." He never was. Right from the start. Maybe.

"Then that's it?" Gilbert asked casually, as if they had been discussing the weather.

"That's it." Was it really?

Gilbert brusquely stood up, his tea having remained untouched. "Well, if that's how you feel, I'll go by myself." He held out his hand. "I hope I don't see you again."

Arthur grasped it. "I do as well."

Gilbert smiled. Then he punched Arthur in the face. "You deserved that you fucker!" He yelled, as he dashed away, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

This wasn't some kind of corny story where enemies suddenly become friends again and everyone's happy and dancing. This was real life. People hold grudges. People leave others. People die. This wasn't a fairy tale, this was reality.

The reality, where Lars and Laura's parents and little brother died, where Laura became paralyzed and Lars had to take up several jobs just so they could pay for their shitty little apartment. Arthur felt no sympathy. He barely knew Laura and Lars, he couldn't make any attachments, couldn't make any connections.

The reality where Feliciano and Lovino were orphaned at a young age, constantly on the move. Where Lovino stole for money, for food, and no one gave a shit about the children, no one cared. They were homeless. They were gypsies. It happens all the time. If Arthur helped them he would have to be fair and help every other goddamn child with a fucked up life living on the streets. There were too many for him to care.

The reality that he cared about Alfred more than he cared about all those other people with shitty lives. That even though Alfred had it better than other people, Arthur valued him more than he did the poor. If your best friend was going to commit suicide, you would cry. You would blame God, because that's what you do when something bad happens. You would be emotionally scared for the rest of your life. Bu when you see on the news on T.V that someone killed themselves, you just say, "Oh that's sad" and continue on with your life. Arthur could think about the 6 million Jews that were killed in the holocaust and feel nothing, but if he thought about Alfred dying, tears would instantly appear. 6 million was just a statistic, a bunch of faceless people. Arthur could identify a face, a personality, a smile to Alfred.

The reality that Arthur probably made the biggest mistake ever and oh shit, Matthew meant so much to him he would probably kill himself if he didn't tell Matthew how he needed him. The boy was engaged. Arthur didn't give a fuck.

He scrambled to get his things and burst through the doors, hoping to see Gilbert's car.

Gilbert didn't leave, did he?

Gilbert _couldn't _leave.

It would be unfair.

But his car was gone.

Fuck.

Arthur groaned to himself and slowly sank to the curb, burying his hands in his face. Maybe he could make it to Francis' house and arrange a meeting with Blaine. Matthew seemed to listen to Blaine more than anyone, so maybe they could work something out. Arthur didn't notice that someone had been watching him.

"Are you okay sir?"

A gentle voice. Soft to the ears. But too high pitched and polite to be Matthew's.

"Sir, are you okay?" A hand on his shoulder.

Comforting.

Lifting his head up, he followed the hand to the owner –a female. She had calming green eyes, blonde hair cropped short in a bob, and a concerned frown.

"Sir, are you okay?" she repeated.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

She shook her head. "No you aren't."

"Even if I'm not, you don't have to worry about me." If they were to switch positions, Arthur wouldn't have even stopped to by to help. He would have just walked right on.

"Arthur Kirkland, let me help you."

At the sound of his name, Arthur shivered, eyes growing wide.

"I… didn't introduce myself."

"Oh, yes you did." Eyes twinkling. She had a playful smile. "Back in Switzerland."

Forced to think.

The only people Arthur could remember were Sofia and Kiku. This young girl – she was never there on the train, they had never met each other.

"Who are you?"

A hand lightly placed on top of his. Soft, smooth. How befitting.

"My name is Erika Vogel."

The name sounded everything but familiar.

"But my real name is Lilli Zwingli."

That was a name Arthur had never forgotten.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you remembered me."<p>

From the inside of Erika's car, Arthur watched as the scenery quickly changed to something more familiar.

"I would never forget you." She quickly replied, but after realizing what she said a blush blossomed across her face. "I mean, I wouldn't forget you! I would never forget what you did for me. You and Alfred both. I can't-"

"I understand." Arthur spared her the embarrassment. "But what are you doing out her in France? I thought you would be in Belarus."

"I did go to Belarus. But my profession called me to America."

Profession? She still looks barely over 17…

"And what is it that you do?"

"I'm a private detective. I've been following up on my brother's case. It's apparently much bigger than I could have imagined – it's on an international scale, involving not just Europe but North America and Asia as well. We had already known that the Mafia was involved, but there may be a slight chance that some big corporation in Asia is as well. We don't know if they're working together or against, but our government files have been breached several times and the sources trace back to Asia. We've got a lead in France, and I'm –"

"Ms. Vogel!" As curious as Arthur was, if she revealed any more information Arthur may have to change his name as well.

"Oh, sorry!" She was all flustered, in a way that reminded Arthur of Matthew. "I tend to do that! Natalia – she's my partner, says that I'm a pretty bad detective. There was this one time – oh, there I go again. I'll just shut my mouth. Ask me something unrelated please." Was she really a private detective?...

"Ah…" It was hard for Arthur to come up with a question that didn't relate to Erika's job. He wanted to know so much more. "How old are you?"

"23." What the fuck.

Arthur tried to conceal his shock. She was the same age as him.

"You're… 23?"

"Yes. I was about 20 when Basch died. You may not believe it, but I excelled pretty well in my courses. Top of my class, and all that. I know 23 is a young age for someone like me to be going on such a big case but I have connections. Oh is this the place?"

Recognizing the residence of one Francis Bonnefoy, Arthur nodded. Odd. There was no car parked in the front.

Arthur took his luggage from the trunk, and made his way to the driver's side. There was just one last thing Arthur wanted to know before he left.

"Is it for revenge?" he asked.

"I… I don't want it to be. I want to say that it's to prevent another situation like mine arising, to say that I want to protect the thousands of people who could become hurt, but I can't let it rest. I realize that I haven't fully grown yet and have come to acceptance with that." Her reply was truthful, sad. Like one of the many other people in life, she was forced to mature at a young age.

"Your brother won't be able to rest. He won't leave you until your safe."

She smiled, delicate, mourning, and filled with all the worldly truths.

"I hope that Basch may find it in his heart to forgive me. Good bye, Mr. Kirkland. I am glad I was finally able to return the favour."

"It was much appreciated, ."

Now Arthur turned to Francis' house to face another challenge. He could barely tolerate the French man. They were frenemies, shared a room dorm back when they went to school. Francis was actually much closer to Blaine than he was to Arthur. That was the only reason why Arthur was stuck with him. He hesitated at the door. Maybe he should have just asked Ms. Vogel to drive him to the airport. Then he could look for Matthew. But if he found Matthew, what would he say? "Sorry I heard you were about to get raped and I didn't really do anything so I came to apologize." That's not exactly friendly. And how would he find Matthew? Magic?

If only Arthur had stopped Gilbert.

If only on that night in Italy had Arthur caught what he was sure was Alfred at that club.

If only Arthur had chosen to leave with Sofia.

If only Arthur had stayed in England.

If only he hadn't walked out of that hospital, running from the mess he made.

Things would have been different, he would have been with Alfred, he wouldn't have given a shit about Matthew. He wouldn't have felt so damn guilty.

"He is gone, Arthur."

That French accent. Who was Francis talking about?

"Francis."

There the man was, silky wavy blonde hair tied back, posture magnificent and a flirtatious grin. The only thing missing was his usual flamboyant outfits.

"Is black the new black?" Arthur commented.

"Only for widows."

Shit. Shit, shit, fucking shit. So that's why Francis asked Arthur to come.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." Then Francis smiled, as if he knew something Arthur didn't. He probably did. "Matthew has left for Canada. At 11 o clock EST he will check in to the Hilton hotel. Then at 5 am in the morning he will join his lover once and for all at Queen's park. If you want to catch up with him, I suggest you leave now, and ask no questions. I have known Matthew longer than you have. The only question left is; are you selfish enough to try and make Matthew yours?"

Befuddled."Yes."

Francis sighed, and placed his car keys in Arthur's hand. "You've never changed. Go after her. We can talk about everything later."

"but-"

"Arthur." It was a demand, not a request. "You leave _now._If you dawdle, you'll change your mind. Then you won't ever live this down, and I won't let you. You're in love for the first time, in the longest time. Go."

Arthur was in love. When someone else said it, it was loud, powerful, and hurt his ears. It was true.

Arthur was in _love._

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Matthew forgot something on the passenger seat. When you meet him, give it to him."

Arthur nodded, then entered the car. On the passenger seat was just a single sheet of paper titled, "Script for comic" in Matthew's slanty hand writing. Oh yeah, Matthew was working on some sort of comic.

"Good bye my friend, and good luck."

* * *

><p><em>"The lights are too bright. You can't see the stars."<em>

Arthur stared out the airplane window, the familiar and distant words settling in his ears. Arthur turned to his left. There was no young blonde sitting next to him. Just some girl with long brown hair and whatever.

_"The lights," he said, pointing out towards the window leaning over Arthur. "You may think it makes the city pretty, but you can't see the stars. Light pollution."_

Arthur couldn't see the stars.

_"I don't mean to be rude, but is that me?" Arthur asked, noting towards a cartoon drawing that had his clothing and a scowl on his face._

Arthur clutched at the paper he held in his hand. It was the script for the first chapter of Matthew's comic. To be honest, it looked more like a story. Something in his mind was telling him to read it, telling him there would be something in this script that would help reveal Matthew's past.

_"Uhh, yeah." He said meekly, as he moved his arm to block his drawing. "I hope you don't think I'm weird or anything, but I'm kinda creating a comic based off my adventure, and I want to draw everyone I meet. It's not my idea, I just promised someone I'd do this."_

How did Matthew's adventure begin?

Well, Arthur could just read the script...

* * *

><p>Oh god. I can't believe Alfred is actually asking me this. I can not fucking <em>believe <em>Alfred is asking me this.

"Please Mattie? Do it for me?"

I don't want to leave him. The one person who made me feel so special and _hasn't_disappeared off the face of the earth. Like Gilbert Beilschmidt. And if I left him – there's no guarantee that I'll be able to see him again. Alfred F. Jones, that is.

"You know, you still never told me what your middle name is." It's a stupid question and a weak attempt at changing the topic, but it's all I've got. I'm too tired.

Alfred laughs. It's enchanting, endearing, and rings in my ears. To think I had once hated it with such a passion.

"If I tell you, would you do it?"

If Alfred wasn't in a hospital bed, I would have slapped him in the face. Well, I still _did_slap him in the face, but Alfred is Alfred.

"Where do you expect me to find a guy with a… British accent who can swear in French can translate Japanese and hates Thai food?"

"Chinese." Alfred corrects me. Whatever, it's all the same shit with the chopsticks. "And you already know a guy with a British accent."

"No I don't." I really don't. Blaine forced out his accent.

"There's Ar-"

"No." Don't you dare fucking _mention_ Arthur Kirkland. I can't believe Arthur and him are still friends. He's the reason why Alfred's in this fucked up situation. Alfred isn't even old enough to _drink_. Not in America, at least. Arthur fucking Kirkland should have been responsible, should have known better. No, _Alfred _should have known better. Why would he stay with a pretentious stuck up bitch like Arthur? The way Arthur humiliated Alfred in high school. How can Alfred be so damn forgiving?

"You know a French guy. Francis or something?"

"He's just a friend."

"What about that guy Kiku? He's Japanese, isn't he?"

"Kiku and I are friends online. There's no way in hell I'd ever meet him in real life. Why the fuck do you want this anyways." I stare into his cerulean eyes, trying to contain my anger. I don't want to be angry at Alfred. "Why the fuck should I go looking for some guy who probably doesn't exist, when I have you."

"You won't forever, Mattie."

My heart hurts so much. I'm this close to tears. I don't want to cry in front of Alfred. I don't want to show him how painful it is, because that'll just make him feel more guilty.

"And what if I do find this guy? What if I fall in love with him and your still around huh? What the _fuck_do we do then, Al?"

Alfred coughs. I worry. How far has it spread?

"If you fall in love, then it's my fault. But as long as you're not alone in life, I'll be happy."

"But I want to be with _you_."

Alfred smiles. It's weird because he's paler and skinnier than me, and the smile looks forced and it looks more like he's grimacing.

"Just go. And make a comic book so I can read it because I don't want to read it if it's a story, it'll be too long and I'll just puke my eyes out."

I chuckle. I love Alfred. I love him so much. I don't want to ever be in love with someone else.

"Then I'll go, just for you. And I'm going to have a bitching adventure and save a whole bunch of people and you're going to be jealous of me."

Alfred grasps my hand. His is clammy, cold, and limp. "Why would I be jealous? You're already mine."

"I love you so much Al. I wish we could have had more time"

"I love you too, Mattie. I'll love you, no matter what."

It hurts in everyway imaginable. We're so young and it already feels like we're saying good bye forever.

Alfred's going to die. I might not even be there when he does.

I fucking hate Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

><p>Blinking back tears made no difference. He couldn't contain his shock, couldn't keep his sorrow.<p>

Matthew _had _known about Arthur.

Gilbert probably knew Matthew and Alfred were together.

Arthur had been searching for Alfred's lover and it was Matthew all along.

Now that Arthur thought about it, the subtle hints, the phone calls, the clues, they were everywhere. It all made sense.

What the hell was Arthur doing? He was in love with someone who obviously detested him, who had every right to. He was in love with Alfred's boyfriend. They were engaged.

And he was a heartless bastard, because he was still going to tell Matthew how much he couldn't live without him.

* * *

><p>Queen's park looked dead in the morning. There was no one there, save for the few crazy joggers who would bother to get up so early.<p>

Then Arthur's heart jumped.

Matthew appeared.

It was all so surreal, all so… dream like. Should Arthur greet him? Should Arthur say something? He wanted so badly to call out his name. But shouldn't Alfred be here somewhere? Arthur looked around. No, there was no one else. Where was Alfred? Francis said Matthew was supposed to meet Alfred here. The anticipation. Arthur would finally get a chance to talk to Alfred. What would he say to Alfred? What would he say to them both?

So many questions.

Yet one spoke the loudest.

What was Matthew holding in his hand?

Then the words became clear.

_He will join his lover once and for all._

The gun was clearly visible from where Arthur was.

Matthew raised it to his head.

Arthur screams Matthew's name, and begins to run.

He is too late.

A gun shot rings throughout the park.

* * *

><p>The end.<p>

By the way, Erika Vogel is Liechtenstein. You probably forgot, but her connection with Arthur was very briefly mentioned back in chapter 5. For the record, Basch's death is loosely connected to Antonio, and both Kiku and Yong Soo are the ones hacking into government files.

There's a short chapter after this, and then the epilogue.


	14. Second Ending

Thanks to **allavengedromance**, **Kenzie-Onee-Chan**, **Deikuru**,  
><strong>Lin Suzune<strong>, **KarimeA**, and **The-doodle-queen**. ALL THAT'S LEFT  
>IS THE EPILOGUE. Two chapters in one day, awesome, right?<br>Does it make up for the long in between updates?

**Chapter 13: The second ending.  
>Disclaimer: Weeeeeeeee<strong>

* * *

><p><em>The most important trip you may take in life<br>is meeting people halfway.  
><strong>Henry Boye<strong>_

"Fuck," Arthur whispered, rubbing at his temples. "That was fucking horrible."

"What was horrible?"

That voice. He-

Arthur immediately opened his eyes, welcoming the harsh sunlight. His vision was blurred, but as he focused he saw those familiar indigo eyes staring back at him, blonde hair falling and tickling his face. It seems that while he was waiting for Matthew at Queen's park, he had fallen asleep. It was all just a dream.

"Y-you're alive!" he gasped, and grasped Matthew's cheeks, just to in case. They were warm, soft, and most definitely real. "You didn't kill yourself!"

Matthew gently pried Arthur's hands from his face, but still kept them in his grip. "Why would I do that?"

"Because Alfred is dead?"

"I am?" Was that.

That _voice _was familiar.

That voice _was _familiar.

That voice was _familiar._

Sitting in an upright position, Arthur was able to see Alfred, his dear Alfred, his one and only Alfred, grinning like a total idiot. As the young man approached the two, his smile seemed to become even more radiant.

"It's nice to see you again, Artie."

Short blonde hair, blue eyes, an untameable cowlick and that damn blasted bomber jacket.

Alfred F. Jones, in the flesh and blood.

Arthur was overwhelmed with so much emotion all he could do was cry. He cried in front of the only two people who could comfort him without the addition of alcohol.

"Arthur…"

"Artie…"

He pulled them both into one big hug.

"I'm just so glad you're both okay. And I'm so sorry for everything. You both probably hate me so much, and I don't blame either of you." He broke away from the two, dreading what he was going to say next. "The truth is…"

He glanced at Alfred, who gave him a flashy big grin. This was his best friend. The teenager who forgave Arthur no matter what he did, the boy who stood up against Arthur's older brothers whenever they made fun of him, the man Arthur had once considered a possible lover, but who would forever see as a brother.

The man that Arthur would have wanted to be his best man at his wedding.

Then he turned to Matthew, who smiled softly but it stood out just as much as Alfred's. This was the young man who had shown Arthur how to smile again, the one Arthur wanted to spend forever with. The one who held him when he cried, gave Arthur space when he needed it, and never asked him any questions and would politely wait for Arthur. The man that gave Arthur just exactly what he needed.

The man he wanted to marry.

Then he stared at them as a whole, looked at them both. Their hands were entwined. Whenever they would look at each other, they would exchange loving glances. Matthew would blush, and Alfred would chuckle lightly.

They were opposites with the same ideals. Matthew was quiet, polite, patience. Alfred was loud, nosy, and always too eager. Both had this strong sense of justice. Both loved one another dearly.

They were perfect for each other.

"What is it, Artie?"

Arthur loved them both so dearly. Before him stood the two human beings he loved the most out of the entire world, and what he was about to say would shatter everything he had with them.

_I don't want you to get married, Matthew. I love you._

"You two suit each other perfectly. You lot better invite me to your wedding."

The couple smiled at each other, knowingly. Love. Compassion. They were soul mates.

Arthur could never be Alfred, could never be good enough for Matthew.

This was how things were meant to be. This was how things should end.

* * *

><p>Eventually Alfred and Matthew got married somewhere in Canada, both in tuxedos, only Matthew's was in white. Arthur was Alfred's best man, and Sofia was Matthew's maid of honour. Blaine walked Matthew down the aisle since the situation with his father was quite complicated.<p>

Antonio and Laura were happily married. Antonio had a vast and practically unlimited sum of money (he didn't really like to talk about it) and was able to pay for a surgery that allowed Laura to walk. Laura was finally able to have a child of her own. Feliciano became an accomplished painter and sold his first painting for a large amount of dough. Lovino never had to steal again.

Gilbert, he made it big as a singer. He still occasionally visits, and he and Arthur are slowly becoming friends again.

Lars and Vy's businesses both blossomed to an international level.

Francis still mourned for his dead wife, but he was slowly coming to accept it.

As for Arthur, he remained broken hearted, and never did actually get that story, never did get his happy ending. But he learned that the world continues on, and he must continue as well. But through his self sacrifice, Alfred and Matthew were able to live happy lives.

As of this moment, he is preparing to move to Canada. Hopefully he'll find his story there.

* * *

><p>"And that is the end of Happenstance. See, Al? I told you the ending is just beautiful. Just how I imagined it to be." Matthew stood up, closed his book and brushed the dust off his jeans. "Everyone but Arthur got a happy ending. It's so ironic, I want to puke." Tears stream down his face. Tears that Alfred would not see, because Matthew turned his back on him. "The book never talks about how I made Arthur fall in love with me for the sole purpose that I could break his heart. It doesn't mention how Arthur drunkenly proposed to me in Italy – but it <em>does<em> mention the engagement ring. It doesn't talk about how Vy's restaurant was forced to close down." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "It does kind of mention how I tried to kill myself, but it doesn't talk about how Gilbert saved me at the last second." Matthew's voice became bitter, and the next words were forced out. "And it most definitely does _not _mention how you shot yourself in the heart."

Matthew waits for a response.

The air in the cemetery is cold and silent.

He turns to Alfred – or more appropriately, he turns to the tombstone labelled _Alfred F. Jones_and smiles through his tears.

"I think Happenstance is my favourite story."

* * *

><p>The end for real (except for the epilogue)<p>

lol did I just mindfuck you twice in one chapter or WHATTTTT -is slapped in the face-

I love the quote for this chapter.


	15. Epilogue

Thank you to **iChovoLove, wretchedheartbreak, Kenzie-Onee-Chan, feralfairy,  
>Lin Suzune, morningdaynight, allavengedromance, Deikuru, Hate Me-I Dare you,<br>Jayshock, The-doodle-queen, Swinny Fluviru, Piyo13, KarimeA, HeartlessLittleHamster,  
>hans-the-hero<strong> and the anonymous people who reviewed! It was very interesting reading  
>all your reactions! Thanks to all those who faved as well!<p>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**  
><strong>Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p><em>O lands! O all so dear to me - what are you,<br>I become part of that, whatever it is.  
><strong>Walt Whitman, <em>The Land<em>**_

In the eyes of a normal bystander, he would appear to be talking to nothing but a slab of stone with a name engraved on it. He is merely talking to a lost beloved one, delivering words of apologies and grievance to a dead man who lies six feet below. Someone who couldn't possibly ever respond. Yet sometimes he pauses, occasionally scoffing or making some kind of snappy retort – as if he was actually conversing with someone. He pushes a few stray locks of sandy blonde hair obstructing his emerald eyes which seem to be staring intently at – nothing.

But if you could see what he could see, you would know that the words uttered under his breath didn't just disappear into thin air. No, they were heard. The words fell upon the ears of the dead man who sat leisurely on the tombstone that lay before him. But just because the dead listen, doesn't mean they are always willing to respond.

A silence soon passes between them, for the visitor has run out of mundane and vague topics to talk about and the wandering soul has yet to respond. He runs a hand through his short messy hair and turns to leave, before a haunting voice – one that he has never heard in years - pierces through the air.

"It's been 3 years, Arthur."

"5 years, Alfred."

"I'm dead. I don't exactly have a calendar hanging on my tombstone that I can check."

Poor Alfred; he has become what he has feared the most.

Alfred cocks his head to the side and when he speaks, his voice seems to project from everywhere and nowhere. "Why didn't you visit?" The bitterness and sorrow is evident in his tone. "Are you afraid? Afraid of me? Christ Artie, I thought you see ghosts all the time."

"It is not you." Arthur chuckles softly, at the irony of the statement. "I am much more afraid of the living than the dead, if perchance it helps you understand."

The ghost understands, but his lips are still set in a thin line. "Oh. Him. You don't have to be afraid." Then his features soften, and anguish befalls his face. "It was so sudden; I had no warning at all. He just stopped visiting, and I didn't know where he went. I know it's stupid and selfish, but I'm scared that he's stopped loving me. I'm afraid that he's moved on, and I don't want him to move on, I want him mourn me forever. I want to find him, but I can't stand being around people when they look straight through me. Walk straight through me." he sheepishly smiles. "I may be lonely here, but if I go out there, I'll be even lonelier."

Arthur resists the urge to step forward and wrap his arms around the American, but he was sure he would just fall through him. Instead, he buries the tip of his boots under the thin layer of leaves that have settled on the ground. It's September and it's so cold, where did Summer go?

"You will not be lonely. I shall be staying here for a few months until Blaine opens his new shop in Canada."

"I'll always be lonely. Every day, every minute, every fucking second I spend my time thinking about him, and how I can't be there for him. Fuck, I promised him I would always be there, I told him I was different. I'm dying Artie, I'm dying and I'm already dead."

And without thinking, Arthur blurts out,

"If you loved Matthew so much, why did you kill yourself?"

Sometime when he had crossed over the line between life and death, Alfred had obtained a very unfitting stoic expression. Arthur stares at the ground in an attempt to avoid it.

"I didn't commit suicide, although I was _very_ close to it."

"Then how did you die? Were you truly shot in the heart? If not by your own hand, then who?" Arthur felt his blood rush through his body, anxiety flooding through as he asked each and every question. "Was it – I know I saw you in Italy, Alfred, a few days before you were confirmed dead. You were supposed to be with a fellow named Ivan Braginski – was he the one that stole your life?"

The last question was captured in Arthur's throat.

_I am heavily enamoured by your ex-boyfriend. Seeing as you are dead, may I have your permission to court him?_

That seems like a very inappropriate thing to say, but it must be heard, because the courage he feels right now may never come back.

"Alfred, I-"

"Ivan Braginski is the man who killed me."

Arthur raises his head in shock but it would be pointless to ask any more questions. Alfred is gone, and he truly would be talking to a tombstone.

* * *

><p>WHAT? ALFRED, YOU DIDN'T KILL YOURSELF? ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU COULD HAVE POSSIBLY LIVED AND YOU AND MATTHEW WOULD HAVE HAD A HAPPY ENDING, IF NOT FOR IVAN? AND WASN'T IVAN THE PERSON WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT YOU? WHY, WHY, WHY?<p>

For those of you who realized that Decessus is the ending to Happenstance, y'all are smart cookies.

Once again, thanks to all who faved, followed, reviewed, and even bothered to read the story.

The sequel is already up, by the way.


	16. Arthur's Proposal

**Before anyone says anything!**

I apologize. I was browsing through my old documents and I had found this. This happened during the chapter "Incomplete." I kinda think people deserve to see this because I have a feeling a lot of people went "what the fuck Arthur proposed to Matthew?"

* * *

><p>"We've met before." Arthur stated. Eyebrows knitted together, a slight frown on his face. A monotone voice.<p>

This could not be good.

Laura and Antonio exchanged worried glances, the joyous atmosphere from only seconds before quickly vanishing.

A look of guilt blossomed across Matthew's face and Vy's hands flew to her mouth.

Something was said that should not have been said.

"Well, I'm just going to go now!" She awkwardly laughed. She sent Matthew an apologetic look before pivoting on her heel and rushing away.

Matthew said nothing.

"You're Alfred's boyfriend."

Nothing.

"Antonio, I feel like going outside for a bit." Laura declared as she glanced at Matthew and Arthur. Quick to pick up the hint, Antonio flashed a smile and hastily escorted Laura out of the restaurant.

That just left Matthew and Arthur alone.

"You're not denying it."

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to deny."

"How did you two meet?"

"We went to the same high school. Your high school."

How could that be possible? Arthur had never seen Matthew before... or had he? Bloody hell, Arthur couldn't have remembered everyone. He was the school president, it was impossible to remember the names and faces of everyone. And yet, Arthur had even once thought that Matthew looked familiar.

"I'm hard to remember," Matthew admitted as he examined Arthur's confused face. "But I remember you."

Mixed feelings. Should Arthur be angry or happy? Two scenarios played out in Arthur's mind.

_"You're Alfred's boyfriend. You bleeding arse, you lied to me. You fucking lied to me. You pretended not to know me, you acted as if we've never met. But we have. And you remember me."_

Or.

_"You're Alfred's boyfriend? My god, I've been looking all over for you. Matthew- I'm speechless. You... __I just can't believe it. Sofia – she was your friend, wasn't she? She said you hated me. You're right, I deserve to be hated."_

But it played out differently.

"You know about the accident." Arthur stated.

"Yes."

Arthur's heart plummeted fast into his stomach.

"I-"

"Don't." Matthew gave Arthur a somber smile. "I've realized it's not all your fault. Alfred was 19 and underage. He shouldn't even have been drinking at all. It was a bad choice on his part."

"I'm still sorry."

Arthur searched Matthew's eyes for forgiveness.

"Words won't stop him from dying."

There was none.

"What are you doing?" Matthew asked, as Arthur uncorked the wine bottle that Vy had graciously placed on the table as a celebration for Antonio's proposal.

"Drinking away my worries," he stated as he poured his glass to the brim.

Five glasses later, Arthur pulls out a small box from his pocket.

"What's that?" Matthew asked warily.

"Alfred's dying because of that car accident."

"No," Matthew corrected softly. "He's dying because he has lung cancer."

Those words went unheard in Arthur's brain.

"I'm going to take responsibility. I'll be the one to marry you." Arthur opened the box revealing a very modest gold ring. It had taken Alfred forever to pick it out. Excluding the fact that most of the shops were closed and the other ones that were open couldn't tolerate the two drunk men.

"Will you marry me?" Arthur asked.

"You don't even love me."

"I do," Arthur said. Matthew could see it. He had already known. Because Arthur had fallen in love with Matthew a long time ago, and he's fallen in love with Matthew again.

Matthew doesn't say anything, but he accepts the ring. He pulls out a chain that was hidden by his shirt. It's thin and silver and would have been simply a chain if not for the small union jack hanging limply. With fumbling hands he slides the ring on and re-conceals it behind his shirt.

After paying for the bill Arthur and Matthew promptly leave the restaurant, the latter half dragging the former away.

"There's so much I want to ask you." Arthur's bitter breath punctuated the air and Matthew nearly gagged.

"I know." Matthew responded, fully aware that Arthur probably won't remember this night.

"I was told you hate me. If you did, why did you spend all this time with me?"

"I wanted you to love me," Matthew was talking more for his own benefit than Arthur's. He needed to hear his own words. "I wanted you to love me so I could break your heart. The same way you broke mine."

"For ruining the relationship between you and Alfred?"

"No. Just for breaking my heart."

"How?"

Matthew doesn't know if Arthur isn't drunk enough yet to forget everything, and at this point he is actually coherent of thought. But he had kept this in mind for he somehow manages to pull Arthur on to the stool of some unknown bar and orders a round.

Matthew inspects the liquid, not entirely sure of what he has ordered. "Do you remember our school musical? The one about gay rights?"

Arthur sat up straighter. "Of course. I was the lead singer."

"I was the person who filled in for Gilbert."

Then everything becomes clearer, and Arthur can't help but mentally berate himself for being so stupid.  
>"Go home," said Arthur. Matthew had given him this worried look but was waved off with by Arthur's hand. "I need some time to myself."<p>

"But-"

"Just go," The words start to slur. "Go. Please."

With great reluctance Matthew stands and briskly walks out of the bar. He is pleased but disappointed at the same time. His plan is successful but inside he wishes that Arthur won't forget this.

As Arthur ordered another round someone else sat down in Matthew's seat.

"Drinking away your worries, hm?" He asked.

"Happily." Arthur had said, though his expression begs to differ.

The man laughed a hollow laugh. "We are one and the same."

He then ordered two bottles of vodka.

"I am Ivan." he had said, as he offered the second bottle to Arthur.

"Arthur." Arthur replied as he accepted the bottle.

* * *

><p>Matthew leans over the railing, blond hair fluttering in the wind.<p>

"Thanks for coming here," he says in that ever soft voice of his.

"No problem." Comes Gilbert's reply. It really was no problem. Gilbert would have done anything for Matthew and he knows Matthew is taking advantage of this. He doesn't care though, because he deserves it.

They spend forever and a day just staring at the water from the Villa del Balbianello.

"I have a plan." Matthew says.

"Does it involve Arthur?" Gilbert asks. "And is it passive aggressive?"

"Yes and extremely." Is the reply.

Matthew turns his head to the side and Gilbert and him are so close that all he has to do is lean a bit further and their lips will meet.

"Let's pretend we're dating." Matthew suggests. "It'll piss off Arthur."

Gilbert is enticed by the idea. He loves pissing off Arthur, for everything he's done. Most especially, he would have loved to just tell Matthew that they should date for real and not pretend. But Gilbert missed his chance long ago and he's glad that Matthew even lets him be this close.

Gilbert smiles a devilish smile. "Sure," he says. Then he forces a kiss on to Matthew's lips and pulls back quickly; a brief and light peck.

"Practice." he says, even though it is the most stupid excuse he has ever made.

A day later Arthur arrives at the exact same spot.

"You're a fucking bastard, you here? Fucking git."

Arthur begins to say. Matthew continues to look and pretends that he has not yet seen Arthur.

"Bloody hell," Arthur continues. "I've had a horrible shit excuse as a vacation because I'm spending most of it chasing after you. You know what I did for you? I fucking prayed. I prayed to God and I made a deal with him. I said, _if you let me find Matthew, I'll pray everyday. _And here you are."

Matthew is happy. He's happy that Arthur actually cares about him. He's happy that he's rediscovered this side of Arthur that isn't discriminating, isn't disappointing. But he continues to remain silent in hopes of hearing Arthur speak more truth.

"You are important to me, you know? I would do anything to help you find that British accent guy who swears in French and whatever the fucking else it was. So cheer up lad, I'm here to help you whether you like it or not."

The words Matthew had waited so long to hear. The words that neither Alfred nor Gilbert could have ever given him. Yet, Matthew felt as if he no longer needed these words. He was finally able to give Alfred a chance; finally able to tell Alfred he loved him. He could finally survive on his own without Gilbert. And if Matthew heard these words, he might fall in love with Arthur again.

So for his own benefit, Matthew turns to Arthur and pretends to look surprised. He pulls out an earphone from his ear - even though he never had any music playing to begin with and says,

"Arthur, when did you get here?"

* * *

><p>I understand that a lot of people are confused. I admit, Happenstance was a confusing story but this is mostly because it's the ending. There are only supposed to be three stories, <strong>Sarcasmus<strong>, **Journey**, and **Happenstance. ** Penance was kind of a story that I pulled out of my ass and I don't think I'll finish it.  
>(I don't really like how it's going to end)<p>

Plus I'm more interested in finishing **Manifestation Imagination **than Penance.

I'm probably going to make a new story thing and call it, "**Excerpts" **and for those who care, it'll be the things that were never written in the story. (Because Happenstance is supposed to be from Arthur's perspective and there are some things he has purposely left out)

P.S. Arthur had once fallen in love with Matthew but had never known who he was.

I swear after this I'll leave this story forever. It just feels incomplete without this part.


End file.
